


Indelible Marks

by VulpusTumultum



Series: Indelible Marks [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Chronic Pain, Fade to Black, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, POV Multiple, Polyamory, Rimming, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Timeskips, noncanon abilities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:49:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3760378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpusTumultum/pseuds/VulpusTumultum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Former Valo-Kas Mercenary Sethras Adaar has never led anything larger than a squad before, or cared much for or about religion, but now he's stuck in a job he never willingly signed contract for, as Herald of Andraste and figurehead/leader of an entire Inquisition.</p>
<p>But when it comes to having to start over, and try to figure out where his past fits him into things, he's at least in good company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bull's Eye

**Author's Note:**

> This is the base fic for the post-game "ending AU" work [Nehraa Qun](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3757111/chapters/8340673)\- this does not NECESSARILY fully lead up to that one though, there will be alterations in continuity.
> 
> I'm tying them together mostly because this is currently the most basic 'early Sethras Adaar' stuff. The Sethras [Adaar/Fenris](http://archiveofourown.org/series/228704) series focuses more on Fenris than the Inquisitor so far and likely will keep doing that. 
> 
> Basically, Inquisitor Sethras Adaar owns an entire plotbunny farm in my head at the moment, and I apologize for any confusion this causes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull's got an interest in the whole "Breach" and "Inquisition" thing- how good is the Tal-Vashoth Herald going to be at getting what needs doing done?

_One of the first things he did after stabilizing shit- contacted his fellow mercs, got them clear of angry humans, and got them paid. One of ours nosing around them- he's popular for that. Wasn't so much before- but not disliked either. Small group of friends, mostly the ones considered crazies. Popular with them as leader, good saboteur group, scouting group. Ambushers and spies. Mage but fights melee with daggers- weird as shit. Glowing tattoos, carved magic shit into his skin- why the fuck do that? His buddies got suspicious from too many questions, closed ranks, contact backed off._

_Family reputation in company good, mother still out working, contact didn't know where, reputation for her is a mage killer. Herald Adaar severed his contract with the company as a soldier, seems likely to hire them- good chance to get into the Inquisition with my Chargers, he knows the value of good mercs. We're not too far from Haven-_

_And he seems like the only person who can close those damn rifts. Humans are lining up to call him a new symbol of their religion or to use politics to kill him and the Inquisition off- while he still seems to be the only person who can get rid of things spitting out demons endlessly, and the group is the only one starting to try actually getting work done. Chantry's scared that shit is changing and trying to carry on as usual. Won't just be speeches after a while, might start sending knives in the dark._

_And he's fucking Tal-Vashoth, with that reputation of crazy and magic- yeah yeah some of the mercenaries aren't bad but, how stable is he going to be for someone at the center of it all?_

_We need inside observers, I'm here. And it's not going to be boring. Idealistic group may pay people what they're worth. Especially with a former merc as their boss. That'll keep the Chargers happy._

“Krem, get over here! You're taking a fast trip.”

 

-0-

 

_Maybe not as young as expected, but still a kid for what he's got ahead of him, moves like melee, not mage. Dual blades- look plain compared to the rest of him. Well made, but not fancy- they're his tools. Everything else is fucking fancy- horn carving, jewelry, got his armor dyed- he likes being pretty. Hint of swagger- might be a pain in the ass, or that's cover of some kind. Could be both. He's pretty sure this isn't a trap, but not because it didn't occur to him- they were watching for a while, his scouts too. Joined in because he can't stay out of a fight, or to end it and get on with the meeting?_

_Good fighting style, but not an assassin. Aggressive rushes with dual-bladed daggers. He likes to fight face to face, but will go for the back whenever one's presented- goes for crippling shots accurately. Nice tricks using fire and ice. It's completely melee focused magic, and once the fight's over, there's no sign of enchantments on his weapons._

Bull chuckled and matched the Herald's greetings, shaking hands-

_Armor's covering those tattoos and scars- except for the back of his hands- no not just back, tattooed his fucking palms a little, yeah he's got a thing for being decorative. Possibly for pain- huh, are those roses? Nice. Left hand's work is a little better done- fuck, he does it himself- means can use both hands for more than combat. Scout leader when with the mercs- yeah, bet he makes good maps._

Adaar did know what Ben-Hassrath were, all he did when Bull mentioned being one was tilt his head and consider it for a moment, eyes- _creepy green, looks like that rift down the coast-_ narrowing slightly..

“All right. So exactly what will that get us- and what would be expected back?”

“Pass on information I get from contacts that's relevant to what the Inquisition does. Send notes back- nothing major, no big secrets- and all of what I send on will get cleared by your redhead first.”

“I've got some scouts to find, then at Haven we meet with Leliana and Josephine- they clear you and come up with a contract you're good with, you and your Chargers are hired.”

_Shit, assuming his magic's not too fucked up, and the crazy that was mentioned isn't too bad, he's at least a smart Tal-Vashoth._

 

-0-

 

Bull went along to find those scouts, to see how it went. Smaller fights along the way made it easier to observe the Herald. The Seeker, Cassandra, had been in reports already, Varric he knew as the author, and then there was the elven mage, Solas- who of them all seemed the most disapproving of a Qunari's presence- though he was silent about it so far if it was even the case. He was the hardest to read, and for now, Bull's focus was on watching the Herald Adaar.

Adaar took the job seriously, the Inquisition seriously- _doesn't- or tries not to take himself as seriously. Easy talker, but guards and dodges from some things, doesn't like silences to stretch too long, maybe still getting to know everyone- not bad at leading talk to where he wants it to go. He's always trying to be careful about giving things away, careful with his temper, Adaar's about control, but pretending he isn't._

_Heard he doesn't remember what happened, just woke up being blamed for what happened, then wound up being a figurehead and longed-for hero. That much sudden change could fuck anyone up, might be what he's working around. He does trust these people with his life already at least- they've gotten how they work together sorted, and he gives orders when the fight might be complicated._

Adaar got a smile when he fought- a twitch of satisfaction to his lips, a hard focus to his eyes that didn't fade quickly. He liked fighting, probably also the actual killing- but hey, that was something they had in common, provided the former Valo-Kas merc kept being pickier about _who_ he killed.

Bull still wanted to get an actual look at the tattoos and scars, the rumors had been unsettling, the hint that other mercs had found them creepy, the shutting out of those asking questions- _Tal-Vashoth._ Their mages were still not as disciplined- and sometimes not picky about where they got power. It paid to remember what the Herald was, beyond good at what he did, easy-going, and at times, a flirt.

 

-0-

 

The herald was, among other things, inclined to ask questions about the Qunari- and the Iron Bull. Something about how he did so made the Ben-Hassrath certain that the Herald mostly was trying to find out about him, not so much the Qun and its organization- or rather, any real curiosity he had about them also came from a professional level of “may need to deal with them someday” rather than any desire to argue against the Qun or think of it as something that should be important to him personally. Adaar didn't care much about where his kith had come from, more focused on who he was and what he was doing now, and would be up against in the future.

Points again for the Herald, as far as Bull was concerned. Also good to see was how, without any fanfare, Adaar was stepping up his role quietly as a leader and not figurehead. He made final decisions, and seemed to be ready to accept any unpleasant consequences as his job to handle.

Bull still wasn't sure about the Adaar's magic, however. It was unfamiliar, he'd only gotten a brief, distant look at a scarred and tattooed back once- and the Seeker sometimes seemed uneasy when he used it, even if she trusted her Maker had chosen Adaar for a reason. Carving spells into your own body- that spoke of desperation, either for power, or to control it. If the second, well, it would be acceptable, maybe even admirable- though _desperation_ was a shitty reason to do anything.

Everything about the boss so far said it was probably the 'control' option, but you had to be _sure._

And then, since he _was_ after all, Ben-Hassrath, Bull took the opportunities provided by conversations to push at the Tal-Vashoth Herald, slipping in more insults about his kind to see how Adaar reacted.

 _Not much of a reaction_ \- Adaar didn't care for the Qun, he felt there were Tal-Vashoth like him and his kith- and then he was aware that the others were completely lost. It didn't matter _why_ to him, Adaar saw the ones like Bull had fought so often as needing to be put down. The only real _reaction_ in that bit of conversation had been in his eyes- for a few moments, he hadn't been seeing the present, even if he was still listening and talking in it.

 _That's a shitty sign. It's not the 'Herald' or 'Conclave' things, though they can't help. He's been through some shit, and it's related to the_ other _Tal-Vashoth. Somewhere before all this, he's fought them, he_ hates _them._

Talking about the Ben-Hassrath, when Bull brought up the reprogramming and had made the comment “We're a lot more fragile than we'd like to think,” Adaar had actually chuckled, though his eyes had a hunted look that he couldn't entirely hide.

“ _That_ I do know,” he'd said, and then his end of the conversation dodged away, into something like flirtation, and Bull let it, though he still hadn't quite figured how serious the Herald was about flirtations- sometimes they certainly seemed a cover or pose.

_Vashedan- keeps reminding me of Sehron. He's been broken, or come close to it. Mostly put back together, but not entirely- how the fuck does Valo-Kas kith deal with walking wounded- do they have ways to fix 'em or do they have to fix themselves? Never mattered before, might matter now._

_Tal-Vashoth breaking Tal-Vashoth. Works for me- or would, but he's a kid who never even knew the Qun, and has his shit together enough so far that he's here now, dealing with a tough as shit job. One everyone needs him to keep doing, so now it's_ my _job to find out how deep the crack goes, and if it's a risk. Besides, which- yeah, I could get to like him._


	2. Envy at the Crossroads

Adaar had not been happy about what was discovered in Redcliffe- he'd felt that the two Tevinters, Felix and Dorian, had been honest with what they knew and their motives. But- trying to talk some Templars over seemed faster, and with the Orlaisian delegates suddenly involving themselves, it seemed more of a possible political necessity. The Breach needed closing- if the mage leaders were thoroughly convinced the Magister had been their only hope, tricked or not- Adaar had decided to try and see if Templars might at least splinter off more easily. Josephine would try and delay the requested meeting with Magister Alexius- he would be a threat, if he really was after the life of the Herald for whatever reason their cult had.

The Orlaisians however- especially their leader, Lord Abernache- were really grating on his nerves. He'd never been high enough in rank to really have to put up with nobles personally before, and Adaar was fairly certain that this party of them would actually complicate things- Templars were not going to enjoy the insults. He'd always heard the 'Game' was more subtle than most of what was said by the leading nobles here, and wondered if this was some manner of test more than attempt to get anything done. Or, quite likely, the worst offenders really did believe that Fereldens and ox-man Heralds were too stupid and backward to understand insults or dare get angry.

Adaar wasn't  _angry_ , yet at least, it was true- that would wait for if they actually did turn this entire thing into a waste of time. He really needed more than digs at how savage Qunari were, or how  _unusual_ it was that he  _attempted_ civilized fashion to lose his temper rather than just try and tune out the bullshit and think of other things. What was the phrase his grandfather had used? Oh yes-

“I have to agree, your views are truly  _maraas imekari_ , very impressively so, _”_ he responded to the latest irritating observation from Lord Abernache, in agreeable and soothingly complimentary tones.

Bull snorted in the background, but they were finally entering the keep courtyard, greeted by Ser Barris, backed by rows of other Templars. Something had Barris off balance- and was upsetting some nagging instinct of Adaar's, but he couldn't quite place it. The dignitary was offended by not receiving a greeting from the Lord Seeker himself, and by the request to spend some time on something so ceremonial and unimportant to him as playing with flags.

Adaar wasn't entirely sure how... traditional... this request really was. It smelled of _test_.But how much time did it really waste? Playing along at least a little- well still might fail it, but it might make whoever was grading it more accepting that the Inquisition was willing to play along. If they expected too MUCH playing along, it might set them up for disappointment- to refuse would make it clear he wasn't going to be led into anything at all- he might have reason to not want them to think that.

So he did it. Possibly not the most politically-proper or expected way, but a 'truthful' way. Choosing people first, Andraste second, and Templars.. least important. He just absently rubbed at the base of a horn when the Templar Barris asked him _why_.

“You really want to know? We're here to try and save people- and many of those people still find some kind of hope and comfort in Andraste. They don't _need_ to see her get off her ass and actually do something useful for her to stay relevant,” not the smartest thing to say if he wanted to kiss ass- but he was here to shake faith in Lucius, not try and please him, when this got repeated.

Ser Barris, and various other Templars within hearing- clearly didn't like the answer. Some, like Barris, more from shame possibly than anger. It certainly meant the Inquisition party was taken inside quickly- still not to meet Lucius but...someone who sounded just as _wrong_ to Adaar, and not just because something about this man looked and smelled almost diseased, strange redness around his eyes- This was not meant to be a real meeting. _Vashkath, no officers out there- trap, now I smell it. No I_ hear _it too. That was a scream from outside-_

He swore and tried to warn the now ass-kissing nobleman to get _back_ even as the sneering Templar suddenly drew and threw a blade very accurately into the man's eye. Everyone drew weapons, and more Templars came into the room. Ser Barris was the slowest to react- and he was defending with them.

_At least it's not going to be desperate mages while we have almost no Templars- and there will be more like Barris, hopefully enough._ And then it was the melee, a running fight to find out what the fuck was going on, and find the Lord Seeker- the enemies often seeming to have that redness like a disease at the _least_. Others... were no longer human at all, even if they still wore bits of Templar armor. The red lyrium that Varric had warned the Inquisition of, and had corrupted Meredith of Kirkwall was here, doing its work.

And then they found Lucius, waiting for them, at the end of the long trail of bloodshed through the Keep- and instead of drawing weapons he dodged in faster than Adaar had expected _and grabbed him with hands that felt burning cold_ -

 

-0-

 

The man had moved far too fast for someone in full plate, and grabbed the Herald- and then even as Bull and the others moved forward and around, only a few steps further, the Lord Seeker screamed angrily and Adaar was jerking back and away, getting a slash in at- a demon that was revealed. Taller than even a Qunari, gangling and seemingly put together backwards somehow. Its voice was grating and hungry as it cursed the Herald and fled into the great hall, vanishing _through_ the heavy doors as if they hadn't existed..

 

“ _I WILL BE YOU. YOU HAVE NOT WON.”_

 

Adaar didn't chase after it immediately- no one did. He stood there breathing heavily for a few moments- muscles twitching and face a snarl before he shook himself and turned to look at those coming up to him.

“Herald- _what just happend-_ the Lord Seeker-”

“Envy demon. You've been following a _demon._ Time to figure out what to do about it.” The Inquisitor followed close behind the Seeker as Cassandra slammed the door open, and Bull was close behind, his muscles twitching- ahead there was.. some manner of barrier blocking the way further.

At least Ser Barris didn't spend much time stunned or upset by the news- especially as demons were spat at them and joined by more of the monstrous Templars. His orders snapped the other Templars who'd joined them into helping put the wave down-

_That fight- he was being too cautious, and didn't use his magic in any way that showed. Vashedan, the boss is off balance- something happened with that demon. Making the Templar figure shit out and give orders- he's giving himself a break._

Fortunately, Adaar seemed to recover, following Barris' terse suggestions to help rescue any remaining Templar officers and find some untainted lyrium- and if the Herald had refrained from using his magical abilities at first, and still used them perhaps a little less than usual as they fought the last minions, he sure as fuck used it against that envy demon.

Bull and everyone else also fought hard, and going against a demon, such a damn big ugly one, that appeared, then vanished, and brought in more as it hid- the Qunari didn't take much time to really try and observe the others, beyond the awareness needed to work together and avoid friendly damage. But still- _he shouldn't have rushed in there- not with all of us still_ here _._ _He's being reckless._

Something strange though- now and then, Bull thought there was someone else fighting beside the boss, backing him up. The dissonance was distracting, so he tried to ignore that thought until after the fight was over.

Once the fight was over, though, the demon down, and the adrenaline lowered, what was much more important to notice was again, the Herald's state. He might have just been a little winded, and otherwise fine- _his armor- the demon didn't scorch or freeze it- or his hands. For fuck's sake he hasn't even noticed his hands._

Then Adaar _did_ notice, hard not to when it was hard to let go of weapons when trying to sling them onto his back again because they stuck to blistered skin. _Whatever the fuck he does, he overdid it._ The Tal-Vashoth just winced, gritting his teeth as he got them put away, and took advantage of most people still not really paying close attention to use a potion from his belt. Seemed to do the trick, so the blistering hadn't been too bad or deep. The mage did notice Bull was watching, and turned away quickly, heading to deal with the Templars- but the Ben-Hassrath noted with some satisfaction that the others who fought beside Adaar regularly noticed something off about him. No bringing it up now, for any of them, and who knew if the other Inquisition fighters would think to later-

“Where did Cole go?”

“Who, Herald?”

“Blonde kid- never mind. He'll probably turn back up,” the Herald rubbed at the bridge of his nose and blinked as his train of thought was interrupted.

“Herald, what would you have us do to make up for our failure?”

“You know one answer already, Barris. You survivors help fix the breach, then you can decide if you want to help try and stop whoever is behind it and get some order and peace back to the world. Fix the breach and you can be our continued allies, or you can leave, disband if you don't feel like you can find a new path for your order beyond being tools to maintain power first and actually helpful in ways people need second. The demon knew how many Templars resented being treated like guard or attack dogs on choke leashes, how else did it get so far?”

“You offer us a place as.. allies?”

“I'm not going to create some new Circle for Templars because your leaders sought power from demons and corruption. You want to mean something, try and accomplish anything good as an Order and win back respect and trust you've lost, you earn it. Forced conscription or service as punishment isn't how a professional force runs. If you disband, or some want to leave anyone who wants to join the Inquisition itself is welcome.”

Adaar shook his head and started back through the great hall, leaving the Templars in various states and versions of upset- but Barris did answer him again “We will help with the Breach, whatever else is decided. We will begin picking those best suited to the task immediately to send behind you.”

Whether or not Ser Barris was the highest ranking of the survivors, none of the officers there argued or disagreed. The Herald paused, looked to them again, nodded, “Good. Thank you,” and headed to see if any of the Inquisition delegation was still alive beyond himself and his companions.

Solas was studying Adaar, “Their leaders were the ones corrupted, but the rest did follow even though some had suspicions.”

“With the Valo-Kas, there'd have been contracts severing, if enough didn't decide the general and officers were full of so much shit as to cause a complete change out. But that sort of thing doesn't seem to go over well outside of merc companies- and of course with Templars, there's the thing where you might die or go crazy if you can't figure out how to afford expensive glowing rock on your own. Mostly though I just don't want to deal with a bunch of people in the Inquisition who have the same resentments against me they had against the last 'overseers' they left.”

“Whether they disband or stay as an Order, some may still wind up in the enemy's ranks..”

“Then we kill them when they come after us, and won't have wasted guards, housing, or other supplies,” Adaar shook his head, “Apologies, Solas, I'm a little short on temper right now.. but much as I've never had a reason to ever trust Templars personally- demanding they just submit would have been as pointless as it will be to demand it of the mages if we can get them out from under that Magister after the Breach seals.”

Now Cassandra had a frown in her voice, “You will offer alliance to mages still?”

“If I'm not going to hold it against the lower ranked Templars that they felt they couldn't argue their leaders' decisions, I'm not going to hold it against mages. Just because they're allies doesn't mean they won't be watched and can do whatever they want. It takes less effort to watch willing allies than unwilling, too. If anyone wants a tyrant who wants cooperation out of fear, find another Herald,” his voice had an edge by the last sentence.

The Seeker stopped walking, and rather blocked the way, frowning at Adaar, “You know none of us wish that- What, exactly, happened with the demon? Before, I mean, when it seized you, because you have clearly been on edge, more than you have been facing demons before.”

Adaar sighed, and glanced around, but they were alone in a lower hall- not far now from where they'd first been attacked. “It tried to possess me. It had some plans as to what it would do posing as a Herald of Andraste rather than a mere Lord Seeker, and it enjoyed showing me them until I got rid of it. Executing people for looking at it funny, making everyone wind up knee deep in blood, that sort of thing,” he shook his head, “Would rather not go into more detail here.”

“You were only held a manner of moments!” but she seemed more shocked than disbelieving.

“If the demon was in his mind- time for him would have been the speed of thought,” Solas, of course, now looked more interested than disapproving, “It would have been able to show him much in a few moments. How did you drive it out?”

“I.. had help. Unsure exactly whether he was some other mage, or.. something else. Probably not the best place or time for extended discussion, but Cole suggested giving it too much to think about- so that it got tired before it got what it wanted out of me, and it worked. Let's see who survived that came with us and get on the road back to Haven,” and he made it clear that he was definitely done talking about it for now.

_Fuck's sake, that would do it. But Boss, we're still talking about shit later. Tal-Vashoth, your magic, and maybe damn demons._

 


	3. Start Understanding

Adaar gave up on sleeping- though being in a camp on the road was better than having stayed in that keep. He rose out of his blankets and rubbed at an arm, eying some of the scars- he felt buried again, too close to taken- he slid his belt back on, and his two blades, and slipped out away from the camp a ways- pausing suddenly and turning at the sound behind him. Bull was following him, and the Qunari crossed his arms.

“All right Boss, at least you were smart enough to arm yourself before wandering off alone at night when exhausted and distracted, but fuck no. Someone's keeping an eye on you.” _too dark to get to see much of the tattoos, but yeah, some of those are glowing a little all right._

“ _Vashedan-_ Bull, I am just-”

“Go ahead and do it, but you're being guarded. Some of those crazy bastards might have fled before being killed, could be bandits, more of those wild mabari- and you're in shit shape to handle anything.”

Adaar swore, and turned, continuing further from camp, but- _he's still smart enough to not argue or try losing me even if he's feeling crazy. Good._ Bull just followed quietly, until finally the Herald found a spot that suited him, kicking together a pile of sticks and broken branches onto a flat rock and lighting it ablaze with magic- he had to touch it, Bull noticed. He stayed back for the moment, listening for sounds of anything noticing the new little campfire. The Herald scowled, and still seemed restless, rubbing a hand along an arm's scars and tattoos, then stopped rather suddenly.

“Alright Boss, exactly what were you planning to do out here that you didn't want to do in the camp and can't do while I'm guarding you? Jerk off?”

That earned a snort, “Not even a little.”

“Hey just because you're short and skinny compared to me doesn't mean anyone expects it to be little.”

Adaar just stared at him, then laughed, though it wasn't entirely humorous still, “And people worry _I_ might be a little crazy?”

“I think of myself as focused. But yeah, Boss- it's a worry. I saw your hands- don't think your weapons are supposed to burn you.”

“ _Vashkath-”_ the Herald took a slow breath, “No. They aren't, I lost focus a few times.”

“Got it back?”

“Enough of it. Demon's dead, life's good. I'll be fine.”

_Yeah, not completely convincing, you're pissed off and not at me- mostly._

“So, how do you deal with shit, get it released? Go out finding something to kill alone while half-naked?”

Adaar twitched, “Dammit, Bull- exactly how is this your business?”

“Bodyguard- pointless if you just go off and kill yourself through carelessness because something's eating you.” _And I'm not even convinced it would just be carelessness- you've had a squirrelly look._ “You're good at hiding it- to a point. So how were you planning to deal with it? Convince me and maybe I'll turn my back- still not letting you be far from camp alone.” Bull watched, he could see the Tal-Vashoth seething, and wondered if the man would actually lash out. For a moment, the Herald shifted his weight as if to stand up- and then he settled back again, though still tense, some of the anger was gone- whether really gone, or just shoved back somewhere was a tough call..

“You're pushing deliberately,” Adaar said it flatly. “Why?”

“To see if you get more pissed at me than at yourself.”

“Stupid thing to do if you think I'm having control problems, isn't it?”

“Good way to find out if you are. Boss, I've seen enough shit to spot the _gaatlok_ in someone's eyes- but not sure how you get it out, and for both our jobs, I don't trust what I don't know- about how you try and deal with shit, or about your magic.”

“ _Fucking Ben-Hassrath_...”

“Hey, if it would help- but no, not part of my job as spy. This _is_ about me keeping you in one piece until your job's done, and finding out if you're dangerous to others or just to yourself.”

Adaar grimaced, “Afraid I'm going to go _real_ Tal-Vashoth?” His voice had an edge to it.

Bull grunted, “It's a thought, yeah. Or you might just burn out like a bad fuse. And that's without wondering if your magic will make a big crater in a tough fight.”

“I'm not lost, Qunari- I've got my job to do, and I don't forget that. Be a shit mercenary, much less Herald, if I dumped contracts with no reason. And I survive. Was known for that even before I got famous for surviving a fall out of a rift, surprised you haven't heard more from your contacts. I'm _not_ going to wind up like your _Tal-Vashoth_ , and I'm not going to just walk off a cliff or attack a bandit camp or some shit. Much rather jerk off, even if that wasn't my plan for the night either.”

“And your magic? Carving shit into your skin is creepy, by the way. Smells like a blood mage. Burning off your fingers without even noticing isn't a good sign either.”

“Limited. And I mean _I_ limit it. Not going to cause problems for anyone but me or the person I'm killing- and not going to kill me either,” Adaar did get up with a muttered curse and put what was left of the struggling fire out via the purely mundane method of stepping on the last embers and bits of flame and crushing it out with his boot- it had gone through most of the fuel he'd kicked together. “I use it to fight, not to twist people around or chat with demons. I _kill_ demons- that's been pretty obvious, I think.”

“Like you said, it can be considered blood magic just because it was made part of my body, and then a few of my first spells wound up drawing from blood shed around me, before I found out how to stop that- but all one of my fire spells can do is set something I'm touching on fire. Blood gets shed, I'm not convinced putting it to use is much more evil than if it just waters the grass when I gut someone or get stabbed myself.” 

Bull's shoulders shifted restlessly, “Who the fuck taught you that?”

“If you mean the magic, there's no blood mages in Talo-Vas besides me that I know of, so no sense sending any assassins after 'em. Kith Saarebas didn't give me much help, not until I could show I was worth the time and effort- but at least they didn't cut out my tongue, or slit my throat immediately. I had a chance to prove I wasn't dangerous to the kith _before_ being taken out. They aren't happy I got blood involved, but decided it could've been worse.”

 

_Sore spot, aggressive defense. Vashedan, really not happy with how little info we managed to get about him._

“Ok, Boss- since you're feeling informative- how old were you when the magic thing happened, that they just _waited_ to see what you'd do?”

Adaar shrugged, and Bull wished there was light again to see his actual expression- “18. Bit after I made full scout,” his voice had that flat tone again- not that it had gotten much inflection through the conversation.

“So you just, what, woke up with magic?”

“Got hurt, woke up, had magic,” which seemed to finally be the end of the conversation as far as the Herald was concerned, as he started back towards camp. Bull followed, staying silent.

_'Got hurt,' huh? Will admit to blood magic, but doesn't want to talk about that. Yeah, not a good sign. Let's see if he can and does get the job at hand done, and where it goes from there. We both know that's not going to be the end of his being Herald if he survives it._


	4. Survival Options

The... kid who called himself Cole suddenly showing up at Haven had the council and those who traveled with Adaar on edge, but Herald himself had been relieved that the one who'd helped him with the envy demon was actually an existing entity outside of the Fade. No one had much time to worry about the boy and how he just appeared, disappeared, and...how difficult he was to really remember, because the Breach was finally getting sealed, while they waited for reports from spies sent to watch the mage situation around Redcliffe.

Reports never came, but shortly after the Breach was sealed- the mages, and a whole mess of mercenaries or former bandits  _did._

If the Tevinter, Dorian, hadn't come to give warning, as nearly too late as it was, things would have been worse- but they were bad enough, and it was hard for _anyone_ to keep up with the Herald as he grit his teeth and tried to personally make sure as many people got to the Chantry's sturdier building as possible once the huge- archdemon or dragon- was overhead, though the most likely possibility seemed to be that the place would become a deathtrap.

The Herald had been quieter than the human mage arguing with Cullen, but just as clearly not willing to take it as a given things were over- and then Chancellor Roderick, who had been the constant thorn in the side of the Inquisition and Adaar personally around Haven from the beginning, had remembered a passage out, despite his injuries. This had changed the argument slightly-

“Herald, the chances of whoever actually fires the trebuchet surviving- or being given time to wait for a signal before being killed, even-”

Adaar chuckled- actually chuckled, “They want me, but I'll bet twenty sovereigns that thing leading them, or someone in his ranks, will want to gloat, or slap me around a little before just killing me. I'll use that time- Solas, Cassandra, Varric, help me get to it, then you get back here. Bull- you and some of your Chargers, keep the door here clear for them to get back in- scouts can get a message to you when they seem far enough through the passage that you need to get out of here too.”

No one bothered asking 'what about you' to the Herald, it sounded as suicide mission as it could to anyone, but- _he's in control, not being stupid, doing what he thinks is his job to do- get people out of here alive- and he wants us at the door because he doesn't think we'd stick around too long, waiting for him, or the others. We're mercenaries. Few nights ago he was on the edge, he's got blood magic issues- Adaar makes my ass itch._

 

_Hope he survives. He's at least partially the kind of crazy I like, and his job's not done at making sure his people here survive._


	5. Discomfited Dorian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian wasn't sure what he ever might have expected from a Tal-Vashoth Herald of Andraste or the Inquisition, and isn't really sure what he's finding.

By now, Dorian had gone back with the Herald and others in the Inquisition to help finish stabilizing the Hinterlands- Redcliffe's Arl having his hands full just about with simply tidying up his Keep and town after Alexius and the mages pr mercenaries that had been twisted to his Master's will for the assault on Haven, and that sodden swamp to rescue some Inquisition forces from Avaar.

It had hardly been pleasant, although a distraction from the disappearance and thus inferred final loss of Felix- he half suspected that was why he had been dragged out to the marsh, the Herald was clearly a believer in dealing with his own worries or problems by keeping rather grimly busy, even if he was starting to seem less grim again and back to something like the careless pose that had irritated Dorian even when they had first met briefly in the Redcliffe Chantry.

Dorian might still have been more upset with the man for _not_ responding fast enough to Alexius, to having gone to meet the Templars first, if it hadn't been made clear from the stories of what had happened at their fortress that one way or another, the Inquisition had been outmaneuvered by that 'Elder One,' and while of course it was easy to feel it would have been better if the mages had been spared- better his _friend_ had been saved- _I wasn't lectured on responsibilities to where one army of hundreds or even thousands have been tricked or magicked into monsters in the service of a monster, even if southern Templars would ever be acceptable._ _There are fewer mages, at least- of course, also fewer Templars now thanks to their own bloody infighting against that demon than otherwise would have been. Some still are the enemy's, and a few mages did escape him._

That Adaar made it clear that any of those mages could take asylum within the Inquisition once he'd become actual Inquisitor.. also helped. Of course they would be watched, and would need to show themselves as real allies, but- they were not being thrown back into something like a Circle. And Tranquil also were being looked for- and looked after.

And then Dorian had a _personal_ apology from the Herald of Andraste over it, when he'd received the word that Felix and his father had just vanished completely, so far as anyone could tell. Followed by later conversations- _Not always comfortable conversations, but I can hardly blame him from wanting to know how I view certain things compared to the stereotypical Tevinter. For all that he is sometimes aggravating, sometimes entirely ignorant, and quite frankly strange about his magic- it is hard to not trust him, no, not only that, I find myself_ enjoying _being around him even in the most miserable weather and surroundings. To a degree, at least._

_And he at least also answers general questions about southern Tal-Vashoth mercenaries, even if he acts too coy about magic among them, to say nothing of avoiding discussing his outright beyond '_ I had combat training before I had magic.' _All Tevinter studies and treatises say Qunari- and by extension, Tal-Vashoth were hedge mages, the Tal-Vashoth often blood mages, which- it could be blood, or merely spirit energy that sustains what he does in battle if he really has very little in the way of innate magical strength._

He scowled a little at the book he was currently skimming through- _Certainly he only uses it in combat, and from those glimpses on the road- those were some sort of ward, and almost dwarven runes on him. Tattooed or carved into his body, which certainly can be considered blood magic, although usually it's done to slaves or servants by experimenting maleficars, not to_ themselves _. Especially experimentally, since if it backfired it could be fatal._

_The idea of the Herald of Andraste being someone who habitually tries to make those around him see him as just some ignorant and amoral mercenary, a yokel with reflexes rather than brains and an overly simple way of looking at the world- it is actually rather amusing when he's not driving me mad personally_. _The very suspicion of the Herald of Andraste being a blood mage is disturbing._

_Good men can and do turn to it, after all. Some may even in other ways remain good- for a while. But it still means they betrayed themselves even if no one else directly. And that does make it easier for them to betray others very directly, as became evident with my father._

_Admittedly it is hard to picture someone who personally faces down a possible archdemon simply so others have time to escape, and of course later wades through zombies and barbarians to rescue a handful of scouts being held hostage as someone likely to hold personal desires and ambitions as anything so dear. Varric is certainly right that our Inquisitor seems likely to face a very heroic sort of end some day. Judging by history and religion, as Herald of Andraste, he is far more likely to_ be _betrayed._

He closed his book and rose, restless. Soon enough they would be out again- him as well, since the Inquisitor had agreed that since Dorian's contacts had tracked down several camps of high ranking Venatori, he should be invited along when they were dealt with. And meanwhile, if he was going to let the freezing mountains and dullness of Skyhold send him into gloom, he could at least find a passable wine to do it over rather than _just_ books.

Instead, he wound up with a letter from his father, personally delivered by Herald Adaar.  


	6. Familiar Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Crestwood, Bull gets a few more puzzle pieces for his internal file on the Inquisitor. They have more in common than horns and being dedicated to their jobs, but still- a hell of a lot of differences, when it comes to magical shit.

Adaar was too damn comfortable thinking about spirits as something other than  _demons_ \- and not just Cole, who still had everyone- well, everyone but Solas, the Vint, and Varric- on edge, even when he wasn't pulling something out of your head to examine. No, he'd even made a  _deal_ with another one floating around the stinking ruins to convince it to leave- Sure, the elf and the kid had been in agreement on it seeming harmless enough, and getting a spirit back into the Fade was better than it staying around  _here_ , but there was still something itchy about it. Bull would have been happier killing it- if it could have been killed.

Before Haven fell, the only mage that had traveled with the Inquisitor much had been Solas- Lady Vivienne really did prefer keeping her distance from Adaar, and it was mutual. Since Skyhold, Dorian was traveling with the larger group, and taking his place as the Inquisitor changed around who came with him, and who helped sort out other Inquisition interests/work in an area.

_Respects Ma'am even though he dislikes her- that's mutual, respects Solas, enjoys their damn conversations about spirits. Trusts that the Vint really is what he says-_ likes _him for fuck's sake, and wants into those fancy pants, though looks like Dorian thinks he's just joking, or isn't interested in a Tal-Vashoth. Heard some of what was shouted at Redcliffe- and I'll take him over his family, but still, he's another itch sometimes._

_But yeah, Adaar gave some Templars and Ma'am fits when he ordered that any mages who escaped Corypheus and came to us willingly were to be given shelter in the Inquisition as specialists. And the only thing that bothers him about the kid getting in his head is what gets made public, not how Cole does it. Vashedan- the only magic the boss is afraid of is his own. Otherwise it's a complication, a possible danger, but one he thinks can be handled as needed._

Currently, Adaar and Solas were picking through what was left of the demons they'd just killed, and Bull was perfectly happy to let them sort out what might be useful for the Inquisition's enchanting while he just observed them- and watched Cole also observing them- looting anything really wasn't high on the kid's priority or comprehension list.

_Fighting demons daily, getting their claws sunk into him, doesn't fuck with him, took nearly getting possessed to mess him up. Nearly losing himself- losing control- becoming a savage Tal-Vashoth or worse, that scares him._

_Well I know_ that _one, shit. Does he just assume the typical ones we fight won't try and get into his head, since they just charge instead of talk? Doesn't convince me, maybe he thinks it's worse if he somehow causes it himself._

_Something else though- not just that. Losing- he's got a thing about losing more than his mind. Not shit like Wicked Grace, or stupid bets, losing things he worked for._

“You laugh inside when you've killed demons, because she said you would surely summon them instead someday- but it's not a happy laugh. How can laughter not be happy? It's sour instead, you think she'll never change her mind,” the kid was watching Adaar fully now. His timing sometimes was even weirder than the rest of him.

Adaar gave Cole a sharp look, but just shrugged, “Not sure I can explain that one, sorry.”

“She says she regrets not having cut out your tongue- it's because your words hurt her when you argue, but that's the wrong reason to cut out a tongue, so she is angry to think it- she tries to believe it is demons talking, not really her son anymore. She wants to be angry at someone else, but can't think of who, so she blames you.”

“Yeah, shame she never got into the Maker,” Adaar chuckled, but as Cole had noted, it was bitter, ”Let's get going, let the others know the rift's closed.”

“Sorry, I didn't mean to make it worse.”

“Not your fault, Cole. Let's just get moving, see if there's a faster way up out of here- and I want a better look at the end of the hall, the wall looked funny.”

_Vashkath- losing people who cared about him once, that he cared for- that could also do it. Bas families can get themselves fucked up._

“How can walls be funny, they don't laugh at all?”

Bull was aware that in the Qun, Adaar's tongue _would_ have been removed, at the very least, and he'd still have lost his role as scout, no matter how much he had enjoyed it – _another reason he hates the magic, it did nearly take away the job he had worked for, the role he wanted-_ but Qun worked for Qunari, not for the Inquisitor, who wasn'tone, and wouldn't ever want to be. It was a waste of time to think about what might have been lost if it had been done, or if he'd been killed outright when he became a mage.


	7. Protestations and Approachability

Dorian had been far too angry when actually at the inn in Redcliffe to appreciate some of what had happened, but now, weeks later, he was appreciating now and then a few fine details- or perhaps imagining them: the extra stiffness his father had gotten, that flaring of the nostrils...

It had not even _occurred_ to him before that he had been escorted to the meeting by what his father would have called a Qunari, since actually acknowledging the difference between Qunari and Tal-Vashoth was not really considered something a noble magister of Tevinter should worry about- savages with horns were savages with horns. And waiting outside, possibly also seen by the Magister if he'd been watching from his room for his son's approach, was the actual Qunari.

Halward Pavus had come to try and talk his son out of the savage south, and Dorian had angrily strode in, in the company of those that were considered the very _definition_ of savage back home. And while the Iron Bull was every bit as massive as a Qunari could be, bare-chested and painted with vitaar- the Herald, oh, he was..something, someone, who must have utterly confused the elder Pavus.

Not that Adaar didn't still loom over most people of the elven or human persuasion, but he wore jewelry like an Antivan pirate, and had for some reason gone so far as to have his horns carved and polished like works of art. He even wore civilized clothing, if not the absolute height of fashion as seen in the Imperium. Even his armor was dyed in shades of blue-green and brown that were dark, but were hardly dull, and suited him.

Around Skyhold, he wore brighter tunics, always in colors that set off his eyes, and trimmed at least a little with embroidery or tooled leather- _still_ only barely civilized fashion, and always very utilitarian in cut, but Dorian certainly had to see worse around Skyhold and the entire rest of the south every day.

Of course, under all that still, the scars and tattoos that the Tevinter mage kept occasionally getting glimpses of around camps made near rivers, lakes, or streams. Maybe more than glimpses, though certainly Dorian did _not_ stare. For long.

Or perhaps he did, but mostly in fascination, mostly scholarly, that Adaar had turned that muscular body into a deliberate network of scars and tattoos, some purely decorative and others making him something of a walking grimoire- wards of defense, traps, keys to unlock how he used a gift he consistently claimed was minor, though sometimes Dorian felt he was not the only Inquisition mage to have doubts about that.

Those scars and tattoos must have _hurt_ to create, he wondered if some of them still did even now- and Dorian, being no fan of serious discomfort, was torn between admiration and something like fear or disgust. He undoubtedly should feel more disgust, since clearly, some blood magic was inevitably involved- the resort of the weak. Something Adaar had finally admitted in a conversation sometime after that encounter with Dorian's father.

“ _Yeah, I was in a hurry, I made mistakes, and I can't erase them. I try to not repeat any once I know where I went wrong.”_

That sort of line was typical of the man, so often delivered carelessly, maybe with a disarming twitch to lip or shoulder, and it infuriated Dorian both at the time and now. A test to see if you would take what he said or leave it, a mix of swagger and self-depreciation that made Dorian grind his teeth. 

Adaar had mentioned trying to find ways to ensure that the actual blood magic he used was kept to that limit, and that he'd tied later enchantments to spirit instead. And yes, Dorian believed him, in part because Inquisitor Adaar had been _furious_ over what Dorian's father had attempted. Magister Pavus had never, ever, before stepped back or gone slightly pale over the anger of his son, even in their most heated arguments, but something had made him do so in Redcliffe. And Inquisitor Adaar had been behind Dorian, backing him, but out of his line of sight- _I wonder what his expression was like? Frightening, apparently- but somehow telling him, even if it may have almost led to an incident messier than I wished- I still am glad someone outside of the family knows. More, I am glad it is him._

And Dorian was rather.. embarrassed.. to recall that it had been Adaar who'd eventually picked him up after he'd drunk himself into a haze, and actually carted him off to a bed, when he'd decided to lose his seething anger in the reliable flow of alcohol at an inn the next night. Who'd called him _brave_ and was almost insufferably patient and even kind when that wasn't what you expected or wanted- when you would _much_ rather he be sarcastic, or bloodthirsty.

_At least he isn't as outright full of blood_ lust _as Bull. I don't think I could handle that sort of similarity. And while I am glad Bull and the others hung back and gave a little more privacy unless screamed for- I do wonder how much more off balance Father would have been if he'd been in the same room as both of them. Of course, then I would have had even more commentary from Bull after, if he'd heard all the details._

Dorian groaned, and tried to pull his mind back to his book. _Thinking about Adaar so much is bad enough. The only attractive thing about Bull at all is that my being anything remotely friendly with him would make so many back home burst into flames. No, I did not just imply that either of them are attractive, in_ any _way. None whatsoever._

He caught the faint rumble of deep laughter from below- in Solas' little pit, and rose, wandering to look down at where Adaar was discussing something with the elven mage. _Thinking of Bull after thinking of Adaar is certainly just a result of the latest rumors floating to my ears- and since I get to witness of them both as we wander the countryside righting wrongs and murdering anyone who seems to need it- I admit suspecting that for once some of the gossip may be correct, the way Bull is almost obsessively guarding his back at times, one certainly can picture him being_ on _Adaar's-_

_Vishante kaffes. My mind is in the gutter, undoubtedly because I've yet to find any lovely young guardsman or mage around here who doesn't see 'Tevinter' before they see 'devastatingly handsome and disarmingly witty'. Because I am unlikely to any time in the foreseeable future. And because Adaar sounded dangerously like he was flirting again yesterday. Well no, he was flirting, but he does that to people, it simply seems serious because of my far-too-prolonged celibacy. Not because he is absurdly complicated, attractive and well dressed for a giant with horns._

_Honesty with self- fine, it is because he is absurdly complicated, infuriating in attitude, physically attractive, and possibly also because of knowing how my father would react, which is unfair to Adaar as reasons go. The Herald deserves far better than to be some act of bedroom rebellion. Same for any temptations due to how it is a terrible idea just considering his position and my own rather shakier one within the Inquisition._

Dorian grimaced faintly, and drew back from the balcony rail, retreating to his alcove and book, trying to not give any more thought to the word 'position' when in relation to the Herald. They would all be heading for the Western Approach in the morning to find out more about what the Grey Wardens had gotten themselves into- though they'd only just returned from Crestwood last night.

 

-0-

 

At _least_ the Western Approach was warm.

It had absolutely nothing else to recommend it, but Dorian was no longer freezing, or soaking wet, and for that he could almost put up with the grit and sand without complaining. Less complaining, at least, than he did for being wet and cold.

It had another bloody high dragon, and since Solas had remained entirely at Skyhold, if the Inquisitor and Bull insisted on finding it, he would have to be involved. Apparently it also had Venatori mixed in with the bandits and wildlife- and at least killing them felt like he was doing actual good for his homeland as much as for the rest of Thedas. Also was just delightful as a response to the dead slaves found scattered in their mine, discarded and gnawed on by hyenas and spiders. Even knowing how paperwork was the heart and soul of the Imperium and a long tradition, there was something infuriating about finding casually written records saying ' _We've moved operations, too much bother to move the slaves too, kill them, there's always more.'_

At least Solas wasn't around to give him meaningful looks or make pointed comments over that. It possibly could make a dragon fight worth putting up with, although he'd seen the state of everyone who'd taken care of the one in Crestwood- healing potions may have taken care of the worst damage to bodies, but seriously scorched, dented, and torn armor had NOT been fixed, and there had been plenty of unpleasant bruises and cuts showing.

Ahead of them though at least seemed to be the ruins where they were heading first to deal with the Grey Warden mystery, behind them another pile of Venatori for the hyenas- and what what remained of one of their occulus stands- as he usually did, after looking through it, Adaar had freed the enchanted Tranquil skull and, while not burying it, had put it somewhere more out of the way, before kicking the stand over. He was...highly offended by the accursed things, which Dorian could appreciate, but it was always a bit strange, seeing him actually reacting so strongly to anything, especially something they saw so often. The mage wondered how unpleasant using the things might be- but hadn't quite gotten to where he wondered _enough_ to volunteer. Adaar's answer when asked had been along the lines of ' _makes your eyes feel like they're bleeding_ '.

At least the convoluted story of a Diamondback game with Hawke and some man named Donnic from Varric had put Adaar into a much better humor again since that headache.

Dorian realized he was watching the Inquisitor more than his surroundings- or footing- but then, he wasn't alone. Bull was continuing his trend of watching the man a little too closely at times for what was required of a bodyguard.

“So, Dorian, your staff's in good shape-”as if thinking about the warrior had inspired Bull to break the quiet, “Polish it often?”

_Oh for- I am not even answering that._ Ahead, of him, Adaar made a slight choking sound. _If he thought that was actually_ funny _they perhaps deserve each other._

“Hey if you're just going to glare, go back to doing it at the boss' ass. He appreciates the attention from you.”

“It's true, I do.”

Dorian swore in exasperation, “Is the heat getting to the both of you somehow?” _If they are together I am getting slightly tired of the occasional twitting from Bull about the Inquisitor, and the Inquisitor sounding so- interested._

Varric sighed theatrically, “Am I the only one actually watching our surroundings right now?”

“Ironic since you have the better vantage for other things-” Adaar was actually still mostly watching their surroundings too- as was Bull again, only glancing back briefly to grin at the Dwarf.

“Sorry Inquisitor, none of you are really my type.”

“Heartbroken.”

“You _have_ no heart,” Dorian retorted, “Or mind, it often seems.”

“So what you're saying is, you'd only be interested in me for my body?”

_An unfair question with Bull smirking off to the side- though he did start this._ “I am _interested_ in getting out of here, and back to someplace with less sand, and more intellectual pursuits.”

“Well that is Hawke that just came from around that boulder, so looks like we've found the right ruin,” the Inquisitor still sounded amused, though he lost some of his relaxation, getting back to business rather than banter.

His mood wasn't destined to improve anytime soon.

 

-0-

 

Livius Erimond was.. the most embarrassingly cliched Tevinter Magister, and Dorian looked forward to his dying spectacularly. A Maleficar Magister, straight out of southern propaganda works- how he had actually convinced the Grey Wardens, even if they were half mad with fear, that he was someone coming to them in kindness was a mystery- his greeting of the Inquisitor's party made it seem like he was incapable of not cackling and yelling about his Master's greatness at the slightest provocation.

For a moment, Dorian had been concerned that the idiot _had_ been granted some power to disrupt the anchor on Adaar's hand, but the Tal-Vashoth had managed to shake off whatever had been happening, and then return the energy- knocking the Magister of Vyrantium down, and sending him scurrying away as the enslaved Wardens and demons began to attack for him.

And there were, unfortunately, enough of them to delay pursuit, even with Adaar unleashing the Anchor again to try and keep them down and make it a faster fight.

“Idiots,” Adaar had muttered, glancing down at the dead Wardens- not having as much sympathy as he often seemed to for those led astray- though it seemed an accurate description and condemnation to Dorian. “Stroud, Hawke, any thoughts on where the rest might be?”

“There is an ancient fortress of the Wardens further into the blighted areas of the Wastes, Adamant. It was abandoned by us long ago, but a likely place now,” wisely, Stroud hadn't argued or tried to defend his fellows, though he'd bristled.

“Find out if it is, we'll be setting up at least one more camp on this side of the Approach, and will be taking that other old fort, Gryphon so we've good staging and supplies- we'll all head back to Skyhold then to wait for your report and start at least what can be started before knowing.”

The Inquisitor nodded to Stroud and Hawke, and headed off once they'd agreed, and Dorian noticed he still moved as if angry and restless rather than his usual relaxed saunter.


	8. Portents

Adaar's hand didn't ache anymore, really, the anchor was back to feeling normal, but whatever the Magister had been attempting- for a few moments it had been not just painful, but disturbingly like the tug of the Envy demon on his mind, except done to his entire body. Perhaps it had just been another attempt to pull the anchor out of him, like the one Corypheus himself had made at Haven, but it almost felt like _he_ was what was being pulled away. And like when the 'Elder One' himself had done it- it hadn't just been pain in the hand or arm, but it had traveled everywhere along his non-decorative scars and tattoos, twitching the lyrium into a sharp buzz.

He wasn't sure what he'd done to break it, beyond get desperate and angry, and lash back out with the anchor even as it was being affected, but those emotions were.. lingering, even if the pain went away fairly quickly for the most part, as much as it ever truly did.

And the Wardens- did they not even check in on Wardens outside of Orlais before deciding they were all really doomed? How could they be such fools as to think someone suggesting summoning demons had the good of anyone in mind but himself or demons? Sacrificing your own kith to bind a demon army should be past even the Warden ideals... the mages had clearly been mindless puppets, unblinking, unspeaking, no more nervous fidgeting or signs of upset- would any of the Wardens at Adamant- or wherever- actually pay attention to that early enough to show sense?

Considering how the Templars hadn't paid attention to signs of madness and corruption, Adaar didn't have very high hopes of that.. the Inquisition would be having to fight a _lot_ of demons if they couldn't mobilize fast enough


	9. Out of the Rift

When they emerged from the rift again at Adamant, they'd clearly been shaken, all of them- Solas less than the others, perhaps. Dorian had been so relieved that Adaar- _any of them_ \- had made it out- and without bringing anything with them, that it took him a few moments to notice how on edge Adaar was, short with words, and speaking somewhat slower than he usually would, as if having to pick them carefully. He still was not overly diplomatic when he told the Wardens they could either help the Inquisition deal with Corypheus- who had repeatedly tricked their order for ages- or they could piss off and _all_ leave Orlais for Weishaupt to see if their leaders had anything to say about their experiments in demon summoning.

Adaar then just headed away, leaving details to- everyone else, and Dorian felt a surge of- worry. _Is he just exhausted, or- blight it all, what happened there-_ Bull immediately following, grim-faced.

Cassandra scowled but stepped up to help Cullen with the remaining details, glancing once to those retreating two, and Dorian found he wanted to follow them, see what was wrong, if he could help. It was a rather unusual feeling in its intensity, and _that_ changed his mind. _Besides, one man chasing after him is undoubtedly enough, especially with so many watching- the suspicious Tevinter heading after them- not useful. And Bull made his decision to do so while I was still arguing with myself._

But he _did_ go to where Solas was quietly speaking to Cole, another who'd at least avoided going into the rift- and Dorian only barely noticed that Solas had actually had a hand on the spirit's arm as if he'd been talking the boy out of going somewhere.

“Aside from apparently physically falling into the Fade- what happened?” _to Adaar, specifically._ Somehow he couldn't make himself actually say it out loud.

The other mage frowned slightly at him, but seemed to for the moment, be willing to not poke at Dorian about their...cultural differences, “It was the realm of a nightmare demon, it gave the Inquisitor back his memories of Adamant- and was generally unpleasant. Details can wait for later, I think, but it was bloody, and apparently being _physically_ within the Fade caused the Inquisitor pain due to his magic the entire time we were there.”

Dorian grimaced, “The Lyrium? Or the very spells themselves?”

“Both, but mostly the latter- I am not entirely certain of the causes, real answers will have to wait until he is willing to discuss it.”

_Ah, that is a definite dismissal of 'not my business what else happened until Adaar decides what to report- or perhaps just a dismissal of 'remember I do not like you and think you are a spoiled fool'. Either way, I will wait, until maybe Cassandra is less occupied._ Physically _in the Fade- so many things this could have unleashed- could even still unleash. That will be enough to think about in the meanwhile._

He kept worrying about the actual Inquisitor at least a little anyway, especially when continuing the uncharacteristic streak, it was clear Adaar had just left Adamant, even though it was explained away as just his needing to act on some mysterious information, and quite convincingly, by Cullen and Cassandra to the masses, Dorian was not terribly convinced. _But do I even want to know if it is that something worse than it seems happened there? Another possession attempt like they say happened when he dragged the southern Templars into being more than mage hunters?_


	10. Flight & Other Responses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Fade, Herald Adaar needs space to try breathing, but Bull also knows the last thing he needs is to keep everything to himself.

Bull was damn glad to be out of that shitty nightmare's den- it still wanted to fuck with his head, or rather, his own mind wanted to fuck itself with the whole experience, and make the demon's original taunts worse. He'd have to deal with it- but also with Adaar. He had to admire the sheer fucking stubbornness and spite that was likely keeping the Inquisitor upright and looking- reasonably well to most watching him.

Movement caught Bull's eye- Cole had been heading for Adaar, but Solas had- stopped him. Too much noise to hear but it looked like the elf said something like ' _not now.'_ Couldn't see Cole's lips from here, but the kid fidgeted, not happy, and Solas coaxed him further away.

_Shit, kid hears the boss needs help and was going to do it in front of everyone- good call from Solas- people do not need to know everything about the Herald, not even if it's only a handful who see, hear, or remember. Adaar's pissed enough that those of us in there know so much now._

The Inquisitor took advantage of a moment when no one was talking to him directly to slip away- _I may have called it wrong after the Templars, and not have needed to go after his ass then, but fuck no, he doesn't get privacy right now, I saw what he did in there during a break, when everyone else was staring at the shitty scenery_ \- Adaar shot Bull a look, but didn't argue or complain at being followed- he was in too much of a hurry to just escape. _The Seeker will deal with business, be pissed about it, but she'll understand at least some of the disappearance- Hawke, maybe Solas, they probably will understand more- hopefully will help explain to the ones who need to know, if boss doesn't give me time to steal a bird from Red's people._

Somehow though, even though they hadn't taken any long route, Red was waiting by the fortress' gates- not that they'd been moving fast, the Inquisitor still was clearly in pain, but unless he started to stumble around, best not to try touching him yet.

“Inquisitor-” she began, not entirely hiding her concern.

“Cassandra can brief you and Cullen first, my report.. will wait. I am heading back to Skyhold ahead of anyone else. I need a break, some quiet, and to see Dagna about fixing a few things. I'd- really _appreciate_ not having to argue this. Cullen and anyone else can shout at me later if they think it's warranted,” the edge in his voice was sharper, “And no one else is coming with me, send out distractions if you think there's enough cause to worry after our army's been recently marching through. Make up something that sounds better than 'the Inquisitor wanted to get away from this stinking place before he started gutting Wardens' for a reason I ran off.”

Red finally nodded, and pointed to the side, “The dracolisks are on the camp's east side, along with water and supplies, Inquisitor, you _are_ letting the Iron Bull go with you?”

Adaar snorted, “He's asshole enough to try knocking me out if I don't have one guard along.”

“Yeah, don't even think it, Boss.”

The Inquisition spymaster nodded, and the way she looked at Adaar made him twitch away in irritation- not used to sympathy or understanding of a soft kind, but she _had_ read him as much as at least anyone else who hadn't been in there to hear the demon had. “Maker watch over you, then. I will inform the others.”

 

-0-

 

Adaar wasn't much into riding, but he wanted to get _away_ from Adamant, and it was much easier than walking at the moment. He was exhausted, still feeling sharp bits of pain, though.. not nearly as bad anymore. While he felt alert enough, he pushed the mounts, but soon enough slowed again, feeling more and more- done. Too damn tired, though blankness as it became hard to think was also a relief. It took him some time to even realize Bull had stopped following and was almost- no was leading now, had grabbed the reins away from him- when, exactly?

“Yeah, Boss, we're stopping at those rocks up ahead.”

“Shitty boss, huh?”

“Cut the crap, you're good at what you do. Everyone gets their ass kicked now and then.”

 

-0-

 

Adaar didn't wake up with a scream- mostly because he didn't have enough breath to, sitting up, trying to get it back- and hurriedly trying to figure out where he was- outdoors, a camp, not caves, not a tent, no smells of burnt flesh and hair, of demon, nor of medicines- pain rattling over familiar places- his earliest spells- not his armor on anymore, but his light clothes from under it- no knives within easy reach, which made his blood pound hard again-

“Hey, Adaar, take it easy, you're good,” Bull was sitting across the small cold camp- no sign of a fire having been made. To the sides were the dracolisks, tethered apart to keep them from getting fussy- and to help guard the camp. The only mounts really available to handle Qunari were also able to handle a lot of minor inconveniences to travelers, and set off alarms over the approach of major ones..

“My knives-”

“Right over there, didn't want one in my good eye if I felt I had to check on you at some point,” the Qunari pointed- they weren't within easy reach, but were by a rock not too far off to the side. Sethras flushed that he hadn't spotted them.

It looked like something around midday, and his head hurt like a horn had been ripped off, he grabbed a waterskin that was by him and took a drink, it helped, though not a lot. “Should.. get going. Get far enough out of the blighted areas-”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

The Inquisitor started to pull himself up, the rest of him still not feeling much better than his head. Bull came over and gave him a hand up, and Sethras grit his teeth at needing it, “Thanks, Bull.”

“Yeah, don't thank me yet, Boss, once we're out of the weirdest areas, we're having a talk that you probably aren't going to like, though it'll be sooner if you're stupid enough to try cutting yourself up while we're in an area blowing with creepy black dust, or while riding.”

“You- no. I'm not that stupid.” that Bull just sounded matter of fact about it threw the Inquisitor- although seemed likely it'd be a part of that 'later talk' mentioned. He changed to a clean shirt instead of the one still stained from battle and scratchy with dried blood, and started to struggle into his armor- swore a bit when Bull wound up helping.

“They teach you Valo-Kas assholes that you're not allowed to be hurt as a thing, or is it just something you picked up somewhere? You've still got demon claw marks that didn't get potioned away fully even if they're not infected and are scabbed over, plus any pain you've got from whatever happened to your scars in that place- if not for the shitty way this area looks and that there may be darkspawn around at night again, we wouldn't be going anywhere today.”

“Again-”

“Don't worry about it, get some rations down and let's go. You're not fighting unless you have to, got it?”

“Yeah, Captain. I got it,” Adaar knew he sounded sullen, but it was hard to worry or care, his mind kept wanting to skitter over freshly opened memories and what had happened, and worried at things still forgotten, at little pieces that were remembered from earlier-

He threw up off to the side rather than actually eat rations before they got mounted- him with help, and tried to just concentrate on everything outside of his skin instead of inside his head. The injuries were helpful, at least, he could dig at them through the armor enough to hurt without likely opening them back up. _I'm being absolutely useless- vashedan- I ran from the job for... a break. No proper report for the council, dropped it without even a warning into Cassandra's lap, they're going to- what. Stop trusting me. They never should have so much- watch for darkspawn, watch for phoenixes. Watch for bandits._

They didn't push the pace much, or for long, Adaar let Bull lead, and wound up almost falling asleep once or twice, his irritable mount not liking that and sidling whenever it did feel like he wasn't paying proper attention. That at least was another good distraction. He managed to eat during a water break for the mounts, not that the dracolisks really needed one yet. And mostly, he avoided looking at Bull directly. A few times, the Qunari broke the stretched silence by recounting some job or another, which Adaar welcomed, even if he couldn't completely focus on the stories.

They did get out of the scarred and blighted purple desert, and into a more normal bit of the approach as the sun was starting to set, and Adaar was fairly certain he may have accidentally opened an injury a little bit, but nothing major. He still _ached_ in general, but felt.. better. Tired, but he'd be fine by the time they got anywhere near an Inquisition camp, much less Skyhold- no, best to avoid the camps.

Pity he couldn't avoid Skyhold. But he'd have to face whatever came of things.

First, he had to face Bull, who'd found a sheltered campsite, a shallow hollow in a cliff, too shallow for any unpleasant surprise tenants- and who loomed over him once the mounts were picketed at the entrance again.

“Get that armor off, Adaar, I saw you wipe fresh blood off your hand.”

“It's nothing, just, maybe a bit of the injury opened.”

“Because you kept poking at it, sure. I saw you doing that too, _Ben-Hassrath,_ remember? Now get moving.”

The bloodstain on his 'clean' shirt was bigger than he'd expected, as was the amount of injury reopened.

Bull handed over a potion, grunting “We have enough, and can resupply at one of the camps before leaving the approach. Use it. Should've made you before we started out again.”

Adaar really wanted to object, or be frustrated by how much the Qunari was, well, fussing. But it felt good to just shut up and do as he was told for a while, and _not_ be in charge of an entire movement. Squads for short jobs had been piss easy.

And mostly didn't involve being attacked by demons, pulled into the fade, and having one's mind fucked with other than-

He downed the potion, wishing it was stronger, and more alcoholic, and wordlessly managed to put together a small fire pit and set out bedrolls, while Bull finished things like double checking their mounts were properly picketed, unsaddled, and their gear was in the shelter with them...

”Alright boss, how are you doing now?”

Sethras shrugged from where he was crouching, and lit the fire, even though it made him twitch to do it, with some magic, “Better, thanks.” He did at least get up without needing help anymore.

“Sounds and looks like _vashedan_ to me. Nice to have had some practice with getting shit dug up that you don't want others to know about, isn't it? Though the kid's at least trying to help when he does it, not break you. The demon was trying to break you, Adaar, it hit hard, but _lost_. So what's got your horns itching most, the memories, the fact a few of us know some of what you're scared shitless of, or that you think anyone who works with you would believe you're cracked up to the point of being useless trash?”

“ _Vashkath-_ Is there anything other than water to drink in what we've got?”

“No. Sehron nearly broke me up, I've seen plenty of others break, and be broken deliberately. You're feeling fucked up from that nightmare, well so am I, fucking _demons._ I hate fucking demons _._ _We're all more fragile than we like to think_ , remember? Try talking instead of bleeding yourself out. You like trying to beat the shit out of each other instead of talking, that's good too. Both of us want to get back to normal, no one else knows, so what does it for you?”

“Fuck, Bull...” Adaar shifted restlessly, unsettled, but he couldn't argue the concern or truth.

 _I am not ready to talk. I need to stop thinking- but fighting? Not my thing unless it's a real fight- not against someone I trust, even if I need something physical- yeah no, not beating the shit out of each other, if he really wants to know- well him beating me might work but still not what would really- fuck._ Adaar knew he probably was flushing, he could feel the heat to his skin, but what did he do when he just wanted to forget, and not think? Drink, and find some sex. Being the Inquisitor- and Herald- had really interfered with at least one of those ways of relaxing.

Blight it all, he wasn't just getting hot from rushing blood in the face- even if the Qunari only was interested in an Inquisitor doing his damn job right as a result, the ass just taking over and fussing over Sethras could have become a turn on even without the stress and mentions of physical contact. That he'd gotten to where he trusted a _Ben-Hassrath_ this much was about as fucked up as everything else, but he did. Of everyone who had heard his fears in the Fade, Bull was the one that he least worried about.

_Even if he offered it like he offered a fight, just because he wants the Inquisitor working again, I'd take it._

 

-0-

 

Bull wasn't surprised by now that what usually did it for Adaar was sex, and he'd even figured some of the flirting towards him while on the road more recently was as real as what the Inquisitor directed at Dorian, but- still hadn't quite expected him to want a thorough fucking by someone with a set of horns so soon after being taunted with visions of Tal-Vashoth in the fade. He hadn't been sure how much Adaar really trusted him- and it was clear trust had a lot to do with what the Inquisitor needed.

_Trust, or anonymity- before he became Herald, he likely got what he needed without attachments in taverns just fine, now though, he thinks too many of them want something from a Herald if they know who he is, or might want something later if they find out. Vashedan, bet the thought someone might even just want to brag about sleeping with the Herald is enough to turn Adaar off- he'd be fine knowing he was just a good looking piece of ass to someone, but not with his title or position being the prize. And he can't help thinking about it._

_And he is a damn good looking piece of ass, though hardly just that. Fucking complications waiting to happen, mixing sex with something like friendship. But if his head's as serious as the rest of him is-_

“That what would do it, Adaar?Because I _will_ \- but only if you're sure it's something you want, not a decision you're gonna regret later.”

_If he's not, we're both going to need some privacy before I try and get him to talk. Pretty sure he will want it, at least._


	11. Needed Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adaar is of no mind to reject the offer Bull made to work through- or at least work out- his stress.

_He just- fuck. One night, how many complications- if it stays to one night, none, really. If it doesn't- I can handle those better than I can handle trying to deal with everything on my own. And I wanted him sometimes even before- if not this bad._

“Yeah. It'd do it. And I _was_ interested before, but right now I need either you, or some actual privacy because if you're not going to fuck me until I can't think straight, I'm not jerking off in front of you either,” he knew his voice sounded rough, but then, he was having a hard time breathing.

Bull apparently found something worth chuckling about in that last growled bit, and he stepped in and pulled Sethras into a kiss, the first one the Herald had had to actually lean up into for quite a long time- it made him shudder, desperately pressing to return it, his tongue against the other man's, groaning as Bull gripped his wrists and broke the kiss off.

“You need me to stop anything, you say _Katoh._ And it stops. Right now, you're not Herald or Inquisitor, so just remember _Katoh_ if you need it.” the Qunari's breath wasn't as heavy as Adaar's already was, but there was a deliberation to it, and he let go of a wrist to stroke along the mage's face with his left hand.

That almost made Adaar fall to his knees right there- “Yeah- _Katoh_ , I've got it- Shit...” the Tal-Vashoth caught his breath and leaned into the hand on his face, kissing and nuzzling at the fingers, deliberately lingering on the shorter ones, scar tissue thick where a blow had cut through, til Bull slid his forefinger against Adaar's dark, full lips, and with a tight noise, the mage started to suck at its tip.

“Oh yeah Adaar, this is gonna be good. Hey, since I am going to be fucking you until you can't think straight- let me see you at least start jerking off.” Bull's finger slid a little further into his mouth, and his other hand let go of the trapped wrist, so it was easier for Adaar to start getting his belt undone and pants open while his lips and tongue still worked on Bull's finger.

He was already feeling weak in the knees, shuddering, and he moaned in relief as he got his smallclothes down and out of the way, his hard cock finally not being compressed uncomfortably. The underwear stayed just tugged down enough to be out of the way, but leather pants slid downward along his thighs, opened enough to slip, until caught by the leg armor still strapped over it. He began to slowly rub fingers and then palm along his erection, as Bull looked down appreciatively. 

“Well fuck, you are _dedicated_ to getting marked up pretty- don't think I've seen many with ink so close to their dick.” Bull's thick finger slid all the way into Adaar's mouth, middle finger joining it, and he sucked hard, running his tongue sweetly against and under the digits every bit as eagerly as if it was the other man's cock in his mouth, his low moan muffled. The attention felt so good to have- still rubbing and squeezing himself, his breath catching, and his sucking getting slightly less regular as he was already getting closer to getting off, despite the roughness of having nothing to slick his grip.

Bull's free hand started roaming along his skin, feeling rough scar, smooth skin, and Adaar's grip tightened around his horn. Finally the fingers were pulled from his mouth, and the Qunari pulled him closer “Hands on me, get me unbuckled, Adaar,” and his left hand slid down along the mage's spine, damp fingers digging down harder as they came near his ass, and then slipped down the cleft to tease the pucker.

“Fuck!” Adaar would possibly have fallen if he hadn't already been against Bull. He groaned, and took a hard breath, getting the Qunari's belt undone now, and his pants, not able to really look to see what he was doing, since his face was against Bull's chest, kissing and nuzzling hard. He did manage, with only a little fumbling, and there was no fumbling in how he rubbed fingers along the hard length.

Now Bull was the one to groan, arching his back and rolling powerful shoulders as he felt the touch, still only just teasing Adaar's ass with his fingers- though he stopped even that, as his breath was let out slowly.

“Get down there, Adaar- Suck me until I'm almost coming right into your mouth.”

“ _Yes_ -” he slid down to his knees, constrained a bit and made awkward by the state of his pants. But once down, he eagerly started to nuzzle, and then suck Bull's huge cock into his mouth. One hand helped steady the Qunari, and he slid the other down and in to stroke through tight short hairs and rub his balls. The larger man groaned deeply.

“Oh yeah, that feels good, Adaar,” he reached back to undo the fastenings that kept his huge maul on his back. The head of the weapon thudded down onto the ground by one of Adaar's knees, Bull leaning into it, gripping it with right hand, left grabbing Adaar's horn and tugging at it, making himsquirm and moan again. His tongue slid firmly along Bull's cock as it filled his mouth, and he arched, managing to get more in, fingers still working at the Qunari's balls and base..

Bull's hips rocked, and he swore happily, but finally he shuddered and released horn and hammer haft- “ _Parshaara_ \- enough- “ Adaar actually made a sound almost of complaint, but drew back, panting slightly for breath, a little precum getting on his lips from a final nuzzle, before Bull hauled him up, not quite roughly, catching and holding his wrists high before laying claim to his mouth with a deliberately slow and thorough kiss, more promising than passionate.

He moaned low in his throat, desperate for more and feeling like his skin was too tight- or possibly on fire- managing to beg as the kiss broke off, “Bull! For fuck's sake,  _please-”_ he lost his breath and gasped as the Qunari lowered his head and bit at a shoulder, making an inarticulate noise as a bruise started. He felt the lyrium dust under his skin, but this- this was enjoyable.

“Adaar, you still hurting- anywhere that I need to avoid? Lyrium ink or scars still a problem?”

“No- 's good. Do whatever you want, wherever-!” he was cut off by a kiss that became a tugging bite at his lower lip.

“Remember the word that will stop everything?”

“Y-yeah, it's  _katoh,”_ he found himself almost moaning the word, some of the scars did burn, but nowhere near bad enough to overcome his desire to be overwhelmed by physical sensation and contact.

Bull grunted, then chuckled low, “Good. _Fuck_ , you're pretty Adaar,” and then the warrior was dragging him further from the fire and shoving him downwards-


	12. Taking Care

Adaar's breathing was hard and harsh, and he really _was_ pretty. It was nice to get a good look at all those tattoos and scars- not the magic ones, they were as detailed as any of the others, but were still as creepy as they were attractive on bronze skin. But the others, they were nice. Bull had seen plenty of Rivaini humans, with their use of tattoos as markers of rank, but Adaar did take it to extremes even by their standards- the flowers tended towards stylized roses with lines creating thorny vines- or dragonthorn blooms. Flying birds, running wolves- and all made of simple lines or shapes in black or blue ink- or scars, raised from using a brand or cut into skin. While not about rank, probably still meant something to Adaar as symbols, worked into his flesh as often as they were along with more ordinary knots and geometric patterns.

Seeing the things seem to move because of how his skin twitched and shuddered along his back, or from the way the fire's light flickered was  _nice_ as Bull had him half over a dracolisk saddle, finally yanking Adaar's leg armor and pants off completely- shit, he even had more of the art running down his legs as well- and in places the designs flowedaroundbattle scars, drawing attention to rather than burying them. The scars that were mostly hidden were the burns, the signs of deliberate slow torture that hadn't been healed fast or well- and even some of those had areas not just visible, but fucking  _framed_ . Like Adaar was daring someone to be upset by them, or showing off what he'd survived.

_Those_ oldest scars were why Bull kept it slow, even if Adaar was squirming for more already, why he made sure to compliment the mage while he enjoyed the sights and ran his mouth over his back, and why he'd decided against binding Adaar's wrists even a little, and just pinned him with body and hands for a while.  _Maybe if we screw again, in some nice and cozy room, when his head's not been fucked with by a demon, can let him be as helpless as he wants to be._

 The flower tattoos wereBull's favorites, kissing and biting down along his back where they marked Adaar, making him arch up and shudder, the mage sometimes swearing in a thick, rough voice over the bites, clearly enjoying being marked in such temporary ways. But what made his shoulders really shake and had him cry out- Bull's name rather than an obscenity- was when he wasn't being so covered by the larger Qunari, but instead when thumbs were spreading his cheeks and exposing his asshole for Bull's wet tongue to start teasing it like yet another flower.

 

-0-

 

Sethras was thankful for the saddle, and the blanket by it, able to grab at them rather than wind up clawing the cave's rock and sand floor- or at least would be thankful he'd had them when he really thought about it later. Every bite on his back ached- at least the ones where the scar tissue hadn't been at its thickest, but it felt good, a change from more normal aches, mixed with the strokes and kisses- and every compliment and dirty suggestion Bull had given him while leaving them.

Now was when he would have otherwise been starting to really claw the ground, with a hot, thick tongue sliding deep into him, curling expertly. “Fuck-  _Bull-_ ” his hips shuddered and rocked, at least, rocked as much as Bull let him, big hands bearing down to keep him mostly still from the waist down at least, as the Qunari deliberately teased and started stretching him, first with that tongue and then after a moment of respite, the first thick, slicked finger- not twisting or curving it to hit the sweet spot, but coming closer enough that Sethras found himself making an inarticulate pleading sound.

Bull groaned, and he moved in so Sethras could feel that huge, hard cock against a thigh as he stroked himself with his other hand, leaning to kiss at a bite mark.

“Shit-” the mage's breath and voice caught, “Ohfuck,  _please, Bull._ ”

“Oh fuck yeah,  _soon_ , Adaar. Real soon,” he slid a second finger in, scissoring, stretching more firmly, working faster, “I told you- I'm going to fuck you til you can't think straight, and I am looking forward to it.”

He sounded like it, voice harsh and rumbling, and Sethras bit his lip and thrust back into the fingers, since he wasn't being held, unable to help himself. A third finger getting into him made him cry out- and Bull grunted in satisfaction, twisted them for a final stretch, then dug fingers deep, this time hitting that sweet spot.

Sethras almost pushed himself up off the saddle entirely, arching, and crying out loud enough to make one of the picketed beasts outside snort. Bull's chuckle had an eager growl, and his fingers slid out as he spread the mage's legs a further, positioned and braced himself- then finally thrust in.

“ _Ataash-”_ Bull covered Sethras, kissing at the back of his neck as he groaned and thrust deeper, the mage gasping and trying to get his breath as he was stretched  _further_ , but also pressing back eagerly, not about to demand he stop. “Adaar, yeah, you feel  _good.”_

Sethras groaned in answer, still a little too out of breath to say much, swearing when he did get his breath, but with pleasure and need as the Qunari made good on his promised offer, fucking him deep, and hard. He jerked forward and rocked back into thrusts, sweaty and pressed between the warm body and leather, bruised by stone and flesh, more kisses and bites. When Bull hit his sweet spot, again and again, Sethras curled into him, almost howling- fingers digging tight at the edges of the saddle.

“ _Bull!_ Ohhh _fuck!”_ the other man's breath was hot, chuffing against his skin, and Bull groaned his own pleasure.

“Ah, fuck, yeah Adaar- beautiful, go ahead-” he muttered against Sethras' skin, something in Qunlat, and thrust into him again, hands running over scarred skin, one sliding down beneath him to run fingers along his cock, though that was hardly needed as Bull thrust into his sweet spot yet again.

Sethras made an inarticulate sound, his body tightening as he came, his seed spattering the ground and leather, eyes fluttering as his cry became a moan of hot relief. Bull himself not done yet, but soon was, with a loud cry of his own, filling his ass, and huffing, the warrior rising more to his knees and pulling Adaar against him, holding him and marking the back of his neck one more time before kissing skin.

“You feeling good, Adaar?”

Sethras leaned back against him, panting softly, enjoying the strong hold, the hands still on him, he nodded, “Yeah.. fuck.. yeah..” It had been a long time since even a quick fuck, and he still felt overwhelmed, the ache of his tattoos and hum of lyrium with every other bit of pain and pleasure still not quite over.

“Good, me too,” Bull chuckled low in his throat, “Get some rest, Adaar. You're gonna be fine when you have to be Inquisitor again, but as long as you need it on this trip, you're just Adaar.”

That was almost enough to turn him on  _again_ despite being worn out, he laughed a bit himself in relief, “... thanks, Bull.”

Rest _finally_ sounded good, and he fell asleep almost as soon as they made it to the sleeping blankets.


	13. Leave of Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull's serious about getting Inquisitor Adaar feeling rested and better before getting him back to Skyhold.

_Little skittering bits of memory: tied, skin burning- shoved aside to remember waking up sheets and bandages smoking, charred, everyone looking at him like he'd grown a second set of horns or worse- overhearing mutters about it would have been more merciful to have killed him- maybe it would have- every movement an agony- healing salves and magic helping now but still skin splitting and needing to grow back- but he hadn't died and wasn't going to just give in now- listening to them wondering if he would recover or be a cripple, be crazy- a crazy mage was a danger, not just something to be pitied..._

 

“ _Why are you hanging on? Fear of nothingness? Desire for revenge? So many reasons mixed up- how strange, you can't escape except to here, the pain so great it still follows now, but you don't want to die-”_

 

_He had to get back on his feet or someone might decide to be 'merciful'- had to find his voice so he could tell them to fuck themselves, he didn't want that pity and fear- can't remember what happened._

 

_And then in the Nightmare's domain again, not in the healer's quarters, the more recent memories slithering up into place where the old still were blocked away-_

 

” _Just because you made new scars doesn't mean they don't still make people fear and pity you, feel disgust. Doesn't fool anyone, you're broken and worthless- and you have_ suspicions _don't you- the same ones your mother had, that some mages in the Talo-Vas did. You think you need the memories_ I _took but oh you don't want those others, because they may prove it, destroy everything you've used to hold yourself together,_ Herald _. Maybe I can find who has them-”_

 

He sat up with an indrawn breath- _cave_ – no, he was fine. He could remember last night- he knew why he ached. Bull was carefully watching him from not far away, looking at ease, if maybe slightly concerned. Adaar stopped reflexively trying to find a dagger.

“Hey Adaar, breathe. You're good.”

“Yeah- yeah I am,” Bull moved in and got an arm around him, which did help too, even if it made him flush with a moment of something like shame that he _needed_ the help- “Should get going-”

“You still need a break, Adaar. Forget it for now- later start and going slow is fine- army's not gonna move fast. You _know_ Red has a way to find you if there's an emergency, even if no one's standing guard nearby.”

He snorted, because of _course_ she did have someone following at a discreet distance... he accepted a waterskin and took a drink, forcing himself to relax a little more. Easier to do with the contact- _I still feel better. And as nightmares go- those weren't too bad or long, I don't think._ He finally got up with a careful stretch, hissing a bit- he did feel better, physically- even with the bruises and aches from the night's activity. That sort of thing was nothing compared to when the brands or tattoos acted up.

He took his time, getting into at least shirt and pants, eating some food, getting out of the cave for a piss- daggers slung onto his back for that, though he still wasn't in a hurry to pull the armor on. Bull _was_ right, they could take a little time- the army nearby likely had any local raiders lying low, and the dracolisks were happy enough sunning lazily, but would still react if anything or anyone got close. He settled back down in the cave, drawing his knives out and checking their edges.

“Those scars, they ever _not_ hurt? You move different all the time, depending on the weather, before the Fade shit, you were doing better here than on the coast, or even Skyhold, and you spend a lot of time indoors there.”

“You watch me that closely?”

“Hey, not like I've got to pretend you're not attractive for professional reasons right now. Your ass really _is_ nice.”

“That much attention to how I move sounds more like you trying to figure out how to take me on in a fight.”

“You want to try telling me you don't look at everyone around you like that? Even friends sometimes?”

Adaar snorted quietly, and Bull chuckled.

“Not sure why you're after my confirmation for what you've figured out- old habits dying hard?”

“Just still trying to figure out why you keep thinking you're weak, wondered if it was just a thing you didn't even notice anymore so didn't have on your list of shit that makes what you do impressive.”

“Fucking Ben-Hassrath,” though he said it with- well, a mix of embarrassment, gratitude, and affection along with the actual irritation.

“Well there's time if that's what you want again.”

“...You, Captain, are an ass. But since you bring it up- “

“Want to see how often in one day, Adaar?”

“Oh, _fuck_ you-But also," the Inquisitor sighed, closing his eyes a moment, "Fuck yes.”

“Then put those knives away and get over here.”

 

Armies moved slow. They had _plenty_ of time for Adaar to get a bit more rest.


	14. Propositions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian maybe gets his hands on the Inquisitor for a bit, though mostly that's the job of a cackling dwarf.
> 
> He also learns something new about the Vashoth culture Adaar's come out of, and finds out that the Inquisitor hasn't just been teasing him after all.

The undercroft was generally not a place Dorian spent much time in- but he'd managed to work out the details of a new staff with Dagna, and was restless to see if it had been finished yet. As disturbing as the dwarf could be when enthusiastic, she _was_ good at putting together your ideas- and even improving on them- to make excellent weapons or armor with the aid of the other craftsmen- possibly doing it all herself, if she found the idea exciting enough.

He found the place almost empty- but Dagna was there, and so was the Inquisitor. Adaar was shirtless, sitting on a low stool- so low that he was having to contort a bit to sit on it, knees almost to his chest- as the dwarven arcanist prodded around at his back very enthusiastically. He was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to just quietly retreat when Dagna glanced over to see who'd come in, and beamed unsettlingly at him.

“ _Perfect_! Dorian- come here- You need to see this, it's so amazing and almost stupid! I mean- I need an opinion from a mage familiar with blood and spirit magic to give me opinions- Not that you do the one but you know theory probably- oh I'm not saying it right but come take a look at this stuff!”

Adaar shifted a bit, and glanced over, shrugging, and seeming resignedly amused, before trying to get himself a little more comfortable. Since he didn't object- well... Dorian _had_ been curious, and he held back commentary on the implication that every Tevinter mage was familiar with blood magic to go and see what exactly she wanted his opinions on.

It turned out to be about every tangent she could run off on, of course, but the main theme seemed to be whether or not dwarven runes beyond elemental as such could be worked into his 'system' as parts of wards and- traps.

At first, the very fact that so much of what the Inquisitor had done seemed bent on locking down and limiting his gift- minor as he always claimed it was- was distractingly disturbing. How anyone could just be so... _terrified_ of magic as southerners or Qunari was beyond him, and it was clear that the Inquisitor had at some point managed to combine both groups' ideas into his experiments. Still fascinating results, but one had to wonder if he really was over his distrust of magic- and of the very implied distrust he had in himself. Also, the apparent recklessness or even self-destructiveness- who on earth went around testing unproven theory on their own bodies? Not that experimenting on _other_ bodies was acceptable- that would have been far worse.

For the most part, the Tevinter's mind stayed well in scholar mode- he was prone to enthusiasm about anything new to study, though never _quite_ as enthusiastic as Dagna, who still managed to mildly terrify him a time or two with some of her suggestions or conclusions. Or at least, with the way she _cackled_ about them. And now that he finally was getting a look- he could even see without her help, the progression of what Adaar had done- or had done by someone- to himself. Some of the later ideas were... almost rather elegant. In a still completely savage and backwards-treatment-of-magic way.

 

_Kaffes, something made him decide to treat his gift like..some manner of plague, or a dangerous monster needing caging. His upbringing, since he never shows signs of fearing mages now- or_ did _he once lose control? Something to do with the scars beneath his deliberate ones? Burns mostly, I think, but- not all of them. Bad enough in places even before he layered more on that he probably can't feel much- Study the work, think about the man behind it later._

And the trap spells- no, not much better, since those were still more- blood related, and clearly earlier work. At some point a younger Adaar had been, perhaps, a much different person than he seemed now, even on his off days. More of a ' _if I go, whoever kills me goes'_ attitude along with magephobia. And all of that past was on display, indelibly on his skin- and possibly would remain even if one could remove them. _How long has this been part of his body- in theory now it is really part of him- he put most of those where wounds are unlikely to be much of a problem, along the tops of his shoulders, kept them small- but, he has to have had them damaged. No he has had them damaged, even in fights I've seen him in. But it doesn't destroy them, or alter the effectiveness. This should be impossible._

Adaar for the most part was just patiently letting Dagna and Dorian argue or toss around ideas, though speaking up and joining in when he disagreed or had a different view of what he wanted, or the theory involved. And it was simply _impossible_ to admit that even if he hadn't had nearly their training, his instincts were usually good- or what he had been actually taught was alien to them- Dorian in particular.

And one thing neither had was Adaar's rather specialized knowledge of alchemy and poisons- one based around the differences in his race's physiology, the types of vitaar they used. The idiot had rather brilliantly used those in some of what he did, as well as the dwarven runes (apparently he knew a dwarf a utterly insane as he was back wherever he came from)- and common arcane systems in ways that should not have worked or been necessary.

Having to admit that a once magephobic, possibly still self-destructive idiot had somehow managed to make ridiculous ideas work, sometimes brilliantly, was rather maddening. He wanted to ask far more personal questions, like _why were you even thinking this was a good idea, you lummox,_ but Dagna's presence did discourage him from actually doing so. If nothing else, she kept him busy answering _her_ questions.

The Tal-Vashoth had shifted around, so they could see what markings were in front too- of course, not every inch of his skin was covered, nor was every tattoo, brand, or deeply cut scar part of an enchantment or ward- but it took a while before the decorative designs began to be distracting- not until finally the dwarf had started just scribbling notes furiously rather than bombarding Dorian and Adaar with questions.

What at a distance always seemed geometric black and blue lines formed vines of more _flowers_ , for example. Delicate birds and other animals as well. Even having noticed -and been fascinated by when he did- the stylized roses on the backs of Adaar's hands before, the whole lot was hardly what one pictured on the over-sized muscles of any warrior, much less one that was a foot or more taller than the average human and had a pair of horns.  
Now that there wasn't _discussion_ , he had to jerk his mind away from far less scholarly thoughts, seeing all that- he had so far not been nearly as, well, handsy as Dagna had been, she had poked and prodded at the magical markings, constantly, in her 'see what happens' way. Now part of his mind wanted to point out he may have missed a few opportunities.

Dagna certainly didn't- thankfully- notice when Dorian's attention slipped a little down other trails of thought beyond what she wanted him there fore. And she didn't notice his flush of embarrassment. He suspected he could set the floor of the room around them on fire, and she wouldn't notice, now that she was muttering to herself instead of to them.

Adaar, on the other hand, _smirked_ at him, catching Dorian's gaze with his own, “Glad you're enjoying yourself so much,” was all he said, in a tone that far too innocently amused to someone suddenly staring at wicked green eyes. Then he went on, “But I think I'm done for the day, Dagna- I need to get up and move around- and get back to other work. I'll read your final thoughts once you've got them settled and get back to you.”

The arcanist radiated disappointment at her study victim wanting to get on with his day elsewhere, even if she _had_ stopped on her own for a bit. _Thank the Maker for her one-track mind. You'd think that with her cackling, chatter, and questions. as well as the fact that what he has done_ is _fascinating, I'd have been able to spend this- however long we have been at it- time without being suddenly tripped up and distracted now. Also, if he does not stop smirking at me, I may set_ him _on fire rather than the floor._

The Inquisitor didn't make things better when he rose and stretched his muscles lazily- _deliberately_ \- before grabbing his shirt and pulling it on, which was a bit of a fascinating thing to watch a Vashoth do when the shirt in question didn't completely unfasten along the front or side, and had to be pulled over his head. Adaar's shorter, sharply curved horns likely made it easier than it would have been for someone like Bull, but he still had to do a bit of head tilting.

 

Dorian blinked and mentally shook himself, heading for the exit to the stairs, still feeling suddenly caught out again. He paused only once on the stairs, remembering that he had come down here for a _reason_ \- and then Adaar was also there.

“So- what did you think?”

“I'm pretty certain you heard what I thought already,” the Tevinter knew he sounded short, and hoped he sounded more annoyed than frustrated or embarrassed, “Though I _may_ have been too busy answering Dagna's questions to make it crystal clear you were, and remain, utterly mad for your little experiments in mixing magical and alchemical theory, especially _on your body_. It's a miracle you have lived so long.”

“Well yeah, about the magic bits, you had plenty of opinions- but not the pretty flowers, or the other purely decorative and attractive bits.”

Dorian snorted, “I hardly am going to go around giving opinions about your other 'bits'- Maker forbid you get as conceited as me.”

The Inquisitor laughed, the sound echoing a little against the stone around them, “Well I'm glad you think I have so much to get conceited about that I might be competition..”

“There is absolutely no competition, despite those lovely green eyes of yours, I still come out well ahead in fashion sense and scholarly discipline.”

“True, scholarly is not the kind of discipline I lean towards,” and the overly-innocent way the man said that line, so very deadpan, somehow made made it more filthy than if he'd actually gone for a suggestive tone. Dorian tried to ignore the feeling his temperature had just gone up.

“You are infuriating when you do that, you realize?”

“Yes, but I feel no shame about it, so unlikely to stop.”

“Not that I generally advocate feeling shame, since it's more entertaining not to- perhaps you could consider it when it comes to certain things, like the ones that annoy me.”

They had nearly reached the upper door, leading to the main hall, despite the conversation having kept their progress slow.

“I can be ashamed of many things- but things tied to my feelings for you won't be on that list- unless they are truly upsetting or hurting you,” there was a serious question underlying the last bit of that statement, all teasing gone. Dorian stopped as if he'd walked into the upcoming door-

“Much as I hate discussions of feelings- what ones are you meaning, exactly, in regards to me?”

“Friendship, physical attraction that I'd like to do something about, but which I'll stop pestering you over, if you prefer that I do so. No more flirting or propositions, if you don't want them, seriously or as entertainment.”

“..Is this some sort of Vashoth or Qunari thing? Because I recall Bull saying similar to the Seeker when we were clearing out those darkspawn.” _And she was fine with it as just entertainment, apparently. That was a bit of a surprise._

“A bit of a Vashoth kith thing, yeah. A _me_ thing, too. Qunari thing, no idea. May just be a Bull thing, like his wandering around announcing he's a spy to people he knows he needs to work with or respects. One reason we get along.”

“Yes, fairly noticeably getting along since Adamant,” _I cannot believe I am having this conversation, or that I just sounded like some jealous lover in one of Varric's books. Hardly his fault that I was afraid I had lost him- even just as a friend, since he is not anything further, and at this point- unlikely to be more, playful flirtations or not since he has Bull looming over him even more since- wait, the wards, his wanting improved wards or traps now, and some of that discussion was about demon-slaying runes-_ Dorian filed that thought away for later, but there had to be a connection to whatever had happened in the Fade.

“They aren't entirely wrong, but that's why I'm... going this direct route, Dorian. My relationship with Bull is- a sort of mutual respect, some friendship, a lot of personal complication, and some fucking around. Open, at any rate.” Adaar hadn't even blinked at the mention of Adamant, nor did he seem to react to Dorian's tone, sounding simply conversational.

_Kaffes! This may be entirely too much honesty-_ “And then we would be- I would be what, just some brief fun on the side?” _Not that I haven't been that before, although not always knowing it at the time, and usually the third party involved was some arranged-by-family woman._

Adaar shifted his weight a little, but didn't look away from Dorian's glare, “No- no 'just' anything. No one else has _anything_ to do with how I feel about you- doesn't lessen or alter any of the things I find attractive about you- it's hard to explain to someone not used to Vashoth. Normally we just shut up and keep it to ourselves or to the few non-Vashoth that wind up with the kith, but- ah, fuck. That isn't going to work here long term. The way shit goes with our Inquisition, seems like it's time to try and at least talk about it before- it gets more awkward.”

_Or before someone nearly dies or vanishes from the world of mortals in other ways again?_ Even the vague flicker of possibility that Adaar had thought of _him_ while in there was- disturbing. Not entirely in a bad way, other than knowing sentimental hopes tended to be crushed. But now at least there was a distracting curiosity to chase after instead, and a chance to cover confusion with sarcasm-

“Exactly how _do_ the dubiously honorable mercenaries of southern Vashoth treat relationships? Is this something I will be able to find laughably uncivilized enough to bring up when you next do something that calls for ridicule?”

“Oh it's definitely uncivilized, I'm told, also irreligious to Chant and possibly Stone, no idea what Dalish would think. Just- relationships are considered a kind of contract, and can be just as flexible as contract to a company within the kith- it's not like we're handing down properties or titles with 'em, even if it's a marriage and not less formal. Can involve more than two people, all together or as more separate relationships that someone is in. I have a thing for and with Bull, and it's a serious relationship. It's not going to just get dropped any time in the foreseeable future. But it doesn't mean I'm not every bit as serious about what I'd like with you, if you wanted the same and could be happy with not being the _only_ person I care about, and spend time with,” Adaar's tone, and eyes, were entirely _too_ serious about this. Uncomfortably so.

“'Spend time with,' for being so uncivilized you certainly keep it polite- and your obsession with comparing everything to mercenary contracts certainly makes for a _unique_ invitation to intimacy. Is there even actual paperwork?”

Adaar chuckled, “If you want more standard invitations, I'll keep giving them too- but I've noticed you getting uncomfortable, more so since Adamant, so- if you don't want them, they stop, and we're friends, nothing further- though you're always still invited to fake flirtation with me, especially if you need to make Giselle or someone like her go into flames, on general principle,” the Inquisitor grinned briefly, and Dorian laughed shortly- short, because that wasn't a smile that had been seen much since Adamant. And considering the conversation, it had a little more effect than usual.

_What he's offering- could I want that? I certainly want_ him _, but- as what? Casual lover- no, not just that, I have been.. getting infatuated well beyond that, but- one of two lovers? If that got out-_ “There would be rumors eventually- in fact there already are, but don't you think they might get out of hand if there is ever verification that you are intimate with half your inner circle- one of them being the Tevinter?” He sounded more sour than he had intended- more over how some, at least, would always see his place of birth as the worst scandal. Not two men, or even that he was a second lover, just always _Tevinter_.

Adaar's green eyes were still entirely too serious, though a corner of his mouth twitched, “I think two isn't quite half of my inner circle,” and that quirk of amusement faded, “There's gossip already claiming I sleep with all of you, and a few of the Chargers as well, individually or together. I can't stop them gossiping, but all you should consider is if _you_ would be hurt by it, because I'm not. This isn't Tevinter- though some will still call two men objectionable, some will be offended that we're not both human, that I have another lover- but they can fuck themselves, because I'm not interested. And I don't buy Giselle's worries that who I trust, care for, or sleep with is going to suddenly destroy me and the Inquisition. Especially not because of idle barracks chatter,” and suddenly Adaar laughed, “She'd waste less time praying the gossips all got their own sex lives than fretting at me over that shit.”

Dorian felt that Adaar _was_ underestimating gossip somewhat, but- that was a relief to the tension that had built over the conversation, and snorted.

“And- Dorian, just think about it, get back to me, yes or no, whenever it suits you. I'll stop the flirting unless you tell me to start up again,” at least Adaar was still smiling, though it didn't so much lessen the tensions that the conversation had built up as..change them slightly. _His smile makes for some interesting heretical theories about the Maker's sense of humor. It's that scar in his lip- and something about his eyes. Looks like the worst of tavern flirts even when I would swear he's not_ trying _to._

Dorian gave up- he did still need to think it over but- “What, and miss out on the entertainment of Cassandra's monosyllable vocabulary and all of the other commentary on the road? And setting Conservatives on fire works best when it is a dialogue rather than monologue. Your flirtation attempts with me can continue, on a trial basis, at the least. Although part of me wonders if I shouldn't still simply object to not being the sole object of proper adoration-”.

“Oh I'll make an effort to prove adoration of every part of you,” Adaar's smile widened, and his shoulders relaxed. The effect, of course, made Dorian's chest tighten, though he wasn't about to say yes to more than flirting just yet.

“I'm looking forward to hearing what your idea of 'adoring' is- will it be prose, or poetry form?”

Adaar laughed, but before he could answer, the door ahead of them started to open, and they had to move a bit to let others past in the narrow stair- some of the keep's craftspeople, a small group of them- heading down to report back in down below and get to work on whatever assignments they had. The interruption wasn't entirely unwelcome to the Tevinter mage, although- not entirely welcome either.

All of them of course respectfully greeted their Inquisitor, and several at least nodded to Dorian. One of the women paused to tell the mage that his staff was likely close enough to done for a preliminary inspection.

“Ah good, I was just on my way back down about that,” he agreed, and let himself join the group- thinking he could feel the Inquisitor's gaze on his back all the way down. Without the full force of Adaar's personality on him, or the man's physical attractions in front of him, he was less than certain again about how the blunt proposition felt. But he _could_ be certain about a new staff's progress. And think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got serious meta/headcanon that the mercenary Vashoth who are organized and have their codes and contracts are comfortable with polyamory relationships-
> 
> And that Iron Bull also finds them appealing. [I put together a couple of the Tumblr posts about that here.](http://vulpustumultum.tumblr.com/post/116888388222/tal-vashoth-iron-bull-poly-headcanons-meta)


	15. Dance Lessons

 Adaar did keep flirting- not really any harder than he had before that talk, though it was enough to be enjoyable- or flustering- for Dorian. Some of the lack of hot pursuit was possibly due to the former mercenary being dragged off by Leliana and Josephine when at Skyhold rather than in the Exalted Plains to be properly schooled in manners and Orlaisian politics for Haramshiral's grand ball- the Inquisitor could not be ignorant of things such as what fork to use, apparently, lest it erode all confidence in the Inquisition as a whole.

Dorian did happen to exit the library into the great hall late one evening in time to witness Josephine teaching the Vashoth one of the current popular dances- and it had been entertaining to watch- not because Adaar was a slow learner, but because of the way he absolutely _towered_ over the Antivan woman. Of course he would tower over Dorian as well, but the Inquisition's ambassador was much frillier than him, and thus managed to seem extra tiny by comparison.   
The mage was, of course, spotted after a few minutes, but declined the amused invitation that he join in the lesson, “No I am quite happy with the knowledge that even if I am dragged along to what I am certain will be a lovely pit of vipers, I will not be called upon to make such sacrifices as to have to dance with anyone.”

Adaar had chuckled, “I rather plan to avoid it myself, but apparently you never know.”

“You likely have just cursed yourself, you realize. You will have elderly dowagers lining up by the dozen.”

“But you don't think _you_ hexed yourself with a similar statement?”

“Not at all, because even if they get over the scandal of my being from Tevinter enough to think me a lovely accessory for a dance, I am unimportant enough to get away with saying no and then possibly hiding in a side garden until needed for less dull entertainments.”

“You think Orlaisians will find a Tevinter attache more scandalous than an ox-man Inquisitor and Herald?”

“Hm, perhaps not, but _you_ were invited by a Grand Duke, and I merely following in your oversized shadow.”

“You say I hexed myself, but I can't help but think that if I wind up dancing with some Orlaisian noble, it's only fair if you dance too- even if it's just a dance with me. It's really early in my career as Herald to wind up sole martyr to the court of Orlais.”

“If you suffer terribly, perhaps I'll be willing to take pity on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just keep picturing Josie giving a Vashoth Inquisitor dance lessons and keep falling apart, because the mental imagery IS SO AMAZINGLY CUTE IT IS ALMOST AS GOOD AS [QUNARI WITH KITTENS](http://bakafox.tumblr.com/search/qunari+with+kittens).


	16. Private Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Ball is almost over, and Adaar apparently believes that if you're going to break rules of polite society and politics, after a long night of playing the Game, you need to break them hard.

Adaar _had_ wound up having to dance- with the Grand Duchess, if only because she had wanted to lure him into a deadly ambush. And Dorian had indeed semi-hidden himself in a side garden, rather than setting foot in the ballroom more than the two times it had been necessary: for the grand introduction, and for the grand conclusion, when the rather blood-spattered group led by the Inquisitor rushed in without being polite enough to change first and saved the life of Empress Celene.

They'd still had to all change back into the nicer clothes after they finished pursuing, then killing the now very _former_ Grand Duchess, but Dorian had wandered back out and away from the ballroom's speeches and the rest of the revel, which could _hardly_ be ended before dawn just because of things like grand treason and fights to the death. He didn't go back to that tedious garden where he'd been listening for information for most of the night, but instead found his way discreetly to the library. After all, it logically had to have been somehow unlocked by Adaar or Varric, since the Inquisitor had mentioned finding some of his information there when they had been springing Floriana's trap.

He'd been enjoying idly looking over the place, and had only just actually picked up a book, when he heard the familiar low chuckle of the Inquisitor. Dorian shook his head in absolute dismay- or at least, a reasonable facsimile of it.

:”Haven't you spent far too much time away from the Orlaisian public tonight? Now that you're a hero of the empire, there may be those wanting to dance with you who aren't merely wishing to talk you into a trap.”

“Maybe not traps involving demons, fairly sure there would always be some other kind- And speaking of those- considering this area is still distinctly off-limits to the public, you really should have locked the door again behind you when you came in.”

“But then how would _you_ have come back in here to find me? Assuming you came in here to find me rather than rifle through the place for more blackmail material.”

“Would've had to climb up again,” Adaar shrugged, but grinned briefly, like he'd have quite willingly climbed up again rather than use a door.

“You- actually climbed some wall to get up here during the party, wearing bright red, without anyone noticing?”

“A trellis, actually- so maybe they just mistook me for an extra large rose.” how Adaar could say something like that and sound so completely serious was a mystery for the ages- “And of course I came looking for you, you owe me a dance- or did you forget?”

“Perhaps I can escape down that trellis, where did you say it was again? That or they need to have brought out some truly excellent wine in the ballroom compared to what was on offer in the guest wing.”

“Who said anything about going anywhere else for it?” Adaar chuckled, then went on more seriously, “If you really object still, consider the bet forgotten. Not into the dancing myself, but it seemed a civilized way to get my hands on you for a while.”

 

_And he does it to me again. Gives me an escape to his suggestions- but still makes them. I can tell him to leave, and he won't even hesitate to do so. Navigates what passes for the Game here all night, but drops it and goes back to being infuriatingly complicated through sheer honesty. And far, far too attractive, even in a color that doesn't really suit him at all. What_ were _they thinking when they chose bright red? Nothing but 'looks militaristic' I assume. And this is still hardly the place or time to want him to be putting his hands on me, especially in_ un _civilized ways. And yet-_ _I haven't had much time so alone with him in a while-_

 

“Well considering a night already full of theft, blackmail, and murdering conspirators, I'm surprised that you wish to be civilized now- I'd think you would be tired of it.”

Adaar laughed, “Very, especially since I _did_ lock the door again behind me. But are you sure you want to encourage me otherwise?” he'd still been standing a polite distance away- but took the step in closer, looking down, so that now Dorian _did_ have to look up further to make eye contact. Between that and the suggestion of challenge in voice and on his face, it made the Tevinter's skin tighten and feel rather hot- in both pleasant and disturbing ways- mostly disturbing only if he let himself think too hard about things like _possible unpleasant_ _consequences._

Which weren't the kind of thoughts encouraged by even the very _very_ civilized way Adaar leaned in and caught Dorian's hand in his, bringing it up to a kiss, still smiling as he played the with the overly courtly gesture. Although the kiss was certainly more lingering than 'polite' standards would call for.

“Maybe a minor civilization, or one still in early stages-” Dorian lost track of the thought as Adaar played his mouth over knuckles and fingers. “- _Kaffes, you-”_ the human mage gave up and jerked his hand from Adaar's- but only to reach and pull him down for a kiss, the Inquisitor quite eagerly taking it- and returning it with heat of his own..

Adaar's arms wrapped around Dorian, one hand on shoulders, the other down at the small of his back- and then continuing the trend into barbarism, he let it slide lower, grabbing and cupping the man's ass, enjoying rubbing his thumb along fabric to get a feel for the flesh underneath- it was enough to make Dorian flush and groan, ending the kiss with a breathless, “This is _hardly_ the place-”

They were far enough from the balcony that no one would see them from the gallery wing below, but this was the kind of architecture to create echoes if either forgot to maintain proper library silence. On the other hand, he had very little interest in stopping altogether, and didn't actually pull away or loosen his own hold on the other man- his own fingers digging in- especially when Adaar pushed him back even further from the balcony, and he wound up sandwiched between a bookshelf and the Inquisitor, who sank into almost a crouch so he could leave hungry kisses along Dorian's face and onto his neck, starting to work hands into clothing.

The nearness of the man's horns- Dorian finally indulged in temptation and curiosity he'd had for quite some time, grabbing one with a hand to explore the carved and polished surface with fingers- and it was clear that Adaar was well aware of some manner of sensation from that, tilting his head sharply into the mage's hand, groaning low in his throat. His mouth was still teasing as much throat as he could without undoing a collar, hands had gotten Dorian's shirt disheveled and untucked, and now were on the smooth skin and lean muscle of his chest and sides, the touch sent the human into a shudder, squirming back against the bookcase. With a filthy-sounding mutter in Arcanum, Dorian insistently tugged to get Adaar's mouth off his throat and back onto his own lips, still hanging onto the one horn, other hand to the back of the Inquisitor's neck.

 

**-0-**

 

Sethras' shoulders rolled and arched as he was demandingly pulled at for a kiss, eyes half closed- horn wasn't sensitive of course, but touches, especially firm, hard ones, could be felt as pressure and vibration traveling to the skull- and fingers rubbing over the carvings- even more vibration, especially if a fingernail caught over ridges. He shifted his grip on Dorian, and lifted him so the kiss was at an easier angle, the bookshelf helping support against the man's back- and then the mage's legs wrapped around his waist and Adaar knew they might be about to go a little far, politically, but he couldn't really bring himself to care. He _needed_ Dorian- and the handsome mage seemed in the same state.

And there _was_ a perfectly private place within easy distance. He straightened, a hand fully under Dorian's ass to help support, but mostly letting the human climb him freely.

“ _Vashkath-_ Dorian- if you have no objection- I think it is time I get to try and show exactly what I think of you-” he knew his voice sounded a little harsher than usual, and his breathing was heavy- he kissed at the corner of the man's mouth.

“...Well, this _is_ a library- so educate me.”

Adaar might have almost laughed in relief- except soon it _would_ be difficult, or at least uncomfortable, to walk even the distance he intended to. He headed up the stairs to the second level of the library, and – couldn't resist. He'd closed up behind himself earlier, but he knew which book opened the hidden office.

And knew how to close the hidden door again once inside, pressing the stone switch, giving them a sudden, silent, privacy, lit by that veilfire sconce. Dorian got dropped onto the tidy desk- and Adaar got to work, getting that shirt and collar entirely open so he could kiss and lick, stroke hands freely, exploring to find what made the man gasp, or writhe, with all the thoroughness he'd earlier put into finding far less interesting secrets.

“.. _Please_ tell me this hidden study is not-” Dorian wasn't completely scattered yet- though there was as much amusement as objection in the unfinished question. Unfinished, because Adaar kissed him again with a low chuckle that became a groan of need, getting the other man's pants undone.

 

**-0-**

 

_He's rather completely mad- but then so am I- because I will quite set even Celene herself on fire if she comes through to interrupt-_ his breath caught, and he writhed, not objecting anymore, not even a little, as he was thoroughly stripped and Adaar made good on his weeks-ago promise to make Dorian feel _properly_ adored. The only slightly unsatisfactory thing about it at first was he wasn't getting much of a chance to explore back- but the Inquisitor tugged him to the desk edge, and then sank on his knees, kissing up an inside leg from the Tevinter's ankle to thigh- finally shrugging out of his own shirt to lay it aside, and there wasn't anything even remotely unsatisfactory after that.

If Dorian hadn't already been hard and aching, seeing those muscular and scarred shoulders- branded, cut, tattooed, with the veilfire that lit the room making the traces of lyrium glow more brightly- would have made him so. To claim he'd never dreamed of finding this man on his knees before him would have possibly been dishonest, since he'd had any number of dreams, many not fully remembered upon waking to tangled sheets- but it always seemed such a lot to hope for- and maybe a little impious to desire openly, as much as Dorian ever thought of such things. Now it was happening, and he ran fingers over the tight cornrows of Adaar's hair, gasping as the Inquisitor slid strong fingers along one of his hips and kissed the head of his prick, then began to lick and nuzzle along its length- when Adaar began rubbing along his balls with fingers, Dorian's hips rocked hard.

“ _Kaffes- Adaar_ , you are going to drive me mad-” _and I thoroughly approve of it. Dearest Maker, when was the last time I have wanted someone this much?_ There was a tightening in his chest, but fortunately also endless distraction from how troubling he would normally find such a thought. He welcomed every bit of it, leaning to tease his lover's pointed ears, feeling over the piercings and cartilage- tugging at the studs lightly. As Adaar began to suck him off, mouth taking him in with what felt like agonizing slowness, Dorian moved one hand to a horn again, flushed and hot- Adaar didn't stop what he was doing, but made a groaning sound that was clearly approval. “Ah- “

Dorian found himself at a rare loss for words, he tugged the horn, feeling the carvings again with his thumb, and slid his other hand down to the Inquisitor's neck and shoulder, feeling the textures there too. Smooth skin, raised and dipped scars, the faintest hum of lyrium under fingertips, only even barely noticeable- especially while other, more sensitive parts of his body were being almost overwhelmed by Adaar's attention. The Vashoth had him deep, sucking and swallowing, and still also cradled, stroked, with fingers at the base of his cock or balls. Dorian could feel the hot, heavy and deliberate breaths, Adaar's nose buried against him, and his hips rocked, wanting to fuck that hot mouth, he was so close already.

“Sethras- _nimis-_ you feel too good. I want to come- will soon, if you do not wish that-” he couldn't quite bring himself to actually suggest the man stop, the result to what he did get out was something like an eager chuckle or possibly growl, and instead of stopping, he slid his hand up to press against Dorian's ass, giving a shove when the man's hips rocked towards him.

“ _Effusi estis-”_ the mage gasped, feeling another intense rush of delight and need at the clear invitation, and let himself give in to fuck Adaar's hot mouth- seizing both horns now, finding them every bit as satisfying to grab and play with as long hair might have been- maybe even more so.

He managed a rather more incoherent cry of fresh warning just before he came, pulling back- as much as he could- in an attempt to stay considerate of his lover, his breath shuddering as he muttered praise in a mix of languages, voice thick with relief. Even though he was certainly experienced with any variety of ways a partner might deal with a mouthful of ejaculate, he still found himself flushing hotly over how perfectly, wickedly, content Adaar seemed to be over the situation and what he had to swallow. Though the veilfire wasn't bright, it lit things well enough to make the shine on dark lips obvious, and Dorian tugged him up, before letting go of horns to feel skin, leaning to kiss, down from his brow to those lips, the man catching his own breath fully and rising, almost crushing Dorian against him, and kissing back eagerly, fiercely, before letting go of the mage to tug off his own boots and pants- which were very, _very_ noticeably constraining an erection.

 

Dorian felt a little too weak in the knees still to get off the desk and help with the removal of clothing, but he certainly enjoyed watching. That _has to have been uncomfortable-_ kaffes _\- well...my expectations are not disappointed, and I find myself only_ slightly _concerned by that._ The now naked Adaar moved in again, and Dorian reached to pull him even closer, on the very edge of the desk top so he could get thighs to either side of the Vashoth and hands and mouth on him, exploring that scarred chest with lips and tongue, one smooth and slender hand going to start feeling along Adaar's thick shaft, and the Inquisitor took a deep breath, catching Dorian's chin and bending down to kiss and nuzzle.

“Mmm, want to get me off, or just want to watch?”

“Just watch? What a barbaric thing to suggest- sit down, you great beast,” Dorian gave a firm push in the direction of the desk's chair, and with a chuckle, Sethras complied. It at least was made for someone who wore massive amounts of skirt, if not for someone his size, so Adaar was able to lean back comfortably with legs spread slightly- and the mage slid off the desk and into his lap. It took some squirming to settle in appropriately so that their cocks rubbed against each other- and Dorian quite enjoyed the reactions that elicited, from the shuddering and tightening of muscle under skin, to the hungry kiss that almost stole his breath away again.

“That's- useful,” Sethras muttered, when a minor spell made the hands sliding around his cock leave slickness behind.

“Oh yes- perhaps you should expand your horizons beyond savage little combat tricks.”

“Maybe-” but if he'd intended to say more about magic, Dorian's tightening fingers turned it into a rumbling groan, Sethras' hands sliding up along the human's body as his ass squirmed on the smooth wood of the seat. He got a hand up the other mage's chest and slid his thumb along a nipple, while his other hand played along Dorian's spine. Dorian meanwhile leaned in, to kiss along Sethras' chest and neck- slowly working his own slippery fingers hard along the Vashoth's cock, stroking, squeezing, making the Inquisitor gasp with pleasure.

And then Dorian cried out, arching, as there was- not _quite_ a spark, but a tingling promise of it from the hands on him, “ _Vexo-_ you,” he got his breath back, “You will be using that again, Inquisitor- when we are not constrained by time or place.” Sethras chuckled wickedly- and leaned to kiss him, then gasped again himself, as in something like retaliation, Dorian's hands picked up their pace and he stroked hard and long, playing with fingers, making the Vashoth's breath catch now, bringing him to the edge, until finally the man came, making a sticky mess between them, most hitting Dorian's skin.

 

The Inquisitor and Herald was back in the grand ball room just before the final bell of the night- not _quite_ scandalously late. The final speeches and farewells were made- and if he and the Tevinter mage looked maybe slightly ruffled by court standards- well, so did the others of the Inquisition party that had spent the night dealing with plots- fast changes in and out of armor, after all. Perhaps they'd even dealt with another, final assassination attempt or enemy while they'd been away.

Some truly astute courtiers had different guesses, rather more juicy ones, based on well honed instinct for spotting people looking entirely too relaxed and happy at the end of a very long event, but unfortunately, it _was_ time for leaving, or returning to rooms for those being housed at the palace, and _alas,_ they had no time to discuss their suspicions for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes, they did clean up after themselves, the Inquisition will not be getting letters from Celene, Josephine will not have a heart attack. But I admit I kept just sort of falling over laughing trying to write those bits and Dorian was being really unhelpful in particular, so- uh, just making note for people who might worry about that kind of detail.)


End file.
